


Logan’s Inn

by Baamon5evr



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: 19th Century, Alpha Erik Lehnsherr, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Angst and Romance, Canon Jewish Character, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Class Issues, Erik Has Feelings, Erik Lehnsherr Loves Charles Xavier, Genosha, Historical Inaccuracy, Implied Mpreg, Judaism, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Omega Charles Xavier, Parent Charles Xavier, Parent Erik Lehnsherr, Past Cain Marko/Charles Xavier, Past Domestic Violence, Past Erik Lehnsherr/Magda, Past Rape/Non-con, Poor Charles Xavier, Soulmates, references to Jane Eyre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:13:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 107,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24672139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baamon5evr/pseuds/Baamon5evr
Summary: Erik, an alpha prince exiled by a coup by the traitorous Lord Shaw finds himself and his children at Logan’s inn as he strategizes to get his kingdom back. Charles, an omega lord running from a sordid past, also finds himself at Logan’s inn with his son. Seeking refuge, both try to keep each other at a distance and their true identities a secret, but fate has another idea.
Relationships: Anya Lehnsherr & Charles Xavier, Anya Lehnsherr & Erik Lehnsherr, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Logan (X-Men) & Charles Xavier
Comments: 115
Kudos: 273





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Was I planning to write this story? Yes and no. I previously had a vehement dislike of A/B/O dynamics. With most things I hate, I try to put words on a page to see what I can make of it and I’ve made this monstrosity. I was hoping to have it finished in time for Cherik week, but that was not the case. I have finished most of this fic, and am still trying to figure out a posting schedule. It may be every Friday, but we’ll see. I hope you all enjoy my humble offering to the fandom.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Charles meet at Logan's inn.

Erik stared out the window of the cottage he now resided in. It was a modest accommodation, not at all what the alpha prince was used to but needs must. It had only been a week ago that he was forced to flee Krakoa, the capital city of Genosha, following an attack by Lord Shaw. That had also been the last time he had seen his father alive. 

The sounds of whistling rocks and cannons had filled the air. Flames had shot up from various parts of the besieged castle as he stumbled his way through the corridors. He felt the floor shake under his feet once more as the catapults, cannons and trebuchets from the invading forces reigned down fiery hell. The battle was lost before it ever started. Krakoa hadn’t seen Shaw’s forces coming until they were already at the city walls. The two armies had traded long-distance blows until somehow the soldiers were flooding the streets, killing commonfolk and guardsmen alike. It was no great surprise that Shaw’s militia, a great many of whom were mercenaries, was as callous and uncaring as he was.

Erik had not wanted to leave, but he knew a losing battle when he saw one. If he stayed, he would die, his family would die, so though it infuriated him, he had to run. His men had been given instructions to surrender to stop any more bloodshed, his council had been made abreast of the situation, and his children were already waiting for him so they could leave the city. Now, he had to find his father in this mess. 

_Figures he would be missing at a time like this,_ he had thought with annoyance as another assault on the castle sent him careening into a wall. He turned a corner and nearly ran into a pair of frightened maids. They relaxed minutely when they recognized him. 

“Ms. Salvadore, Ms. Pryde. You should be hiding.” 

“M— My Prince, the enemy they— breached, th—they breached the castle,” Angel stuttered as she held up Kitty, who was shaking like a leaf. 

Erik did not let on how frustrating the news was. 

“Have you seen King Jakob?” 

“The soldiers attacked us in the council chambers. They tried to… His Majesty saved us. They were talking about avenging Lord Sebastian’s son and killing any royal they found. The king told us to run.” 

Erik’s heart jumped into his throat. His father was an alpha and a trained fighter, just like every man and woman who sat the Genoshan throne before him, but he was not Gifted and many of the soldiers in Shaw’s army were. 

“How many of Shaw’s soldiers did you see?” 

“Six.” 

Erik could take on six half-asleep. He glanced back at the two girls. Angel was a beta and Kitty an omega. Both were Gifted, but Erik was aware of the beast that battle unleashed inside the hearts of men and women. Many people would be hurt tonight if they were caught unawares. 

“Get yourselves to the servants’ tunnels, get out of the castle and find a safe place. You must stay inside tonight. These soldiers will not be kind to anybody they find. Make sure to counsel any women or omegas you see to make themselves scarce. Perhaps the betas as well as the non-Gifted ought to stay underground too.” 

Angel and Kitty shared a nervous look between themselves. 

“They are going to win, aren’t they? After what they did to Princess Ruth, now...” Kitty asked in a small voice. 

“They might win the battle, but certainly not the war,” Erik promised, thunder in his voice. 

That answer appeared to satisfy them. 

He nodded the girls off and made his way to the council chambers. The closer he got, the more the sound of clashing swords became apparent. He started to run, ignoring the sounds of the cannons, rifles, and rocks outside as well as the dust and debris falling from the ceiling. He skidded to a stop outside the room. 

Two men were already slumped on the floor with rifles discarded near them while his father, Non-Gifted and with an old war injury that caused him to limp, stood tall with a bloodied sword facing off against four assailants, one of whom clutched her bleeding side. The bleeding woman held a sword while the man beside her had a bayonet in hand. Another woman had a hand consumed by fire while the person beside her was covered in spikes. The four made to rush the old king. It took barely a thought for Erik to grab hold of their armor, stopping them in their tracks. 

His father looked up as he stepped into the room. Erik could make this easy, kill them in an instant and be done with it, but he was livid, affronted by the audacity of Shaw to come to his home and try to take it from him under the guise of revenge, offended that these soldiers thought they could try to kill his father under his roof and get away with it, incensed that they plotted to kill his children in retaliation against Erik for the death of a man who was a murderer. He could smell the fear seeping from the betas as he moved to stand in front of them. He glanced into each of their eyes, held up his fist and squeezed slowly. Their armors crunched as it pressed in on them, suffocating them. They gasped and begged, but he ignored it. He only relented when they stopped moving, dropping his fist and letting them fall to the ground like puppets with the strings cut. 

He turned to his father, who had thus far remained silent, and found him slumping against the wall. His eyes widened as he saw blood pooling on the floor beneath him. 

“What—” 

His father drew back his overcoat and revealed several spikes embedded in his abdomen and chest. Erik felt more anger rise in him. He should’ve made their deaths much worse. 

“This is the last stand for me it seems, my son.” 

Erik shook his head, unsure what to say. 

“My actions have wrought this. You were right when you said I should not trust Sebastian. You were right about everything regarding that… mess. I did not listen. Now the future of Genosha is in your hands. You have to leave this place, leave me here, take the children and get to safety.” 

“I cannot leave you, Father.” 

“I am already dead.” 

Erik could not accept this. They had their differences. After his mother, Ruth and Magda, sometimes Erik thought he hated this man, but he never wanted this. 

“Listen to me, Erik. I have done many things that I regret in this life. I have trusted the wrong people, and your sister… I should have done much more for her than I did. I was not the best father to either of you, but I have always known you would be the leader Genosha needs and deserves. Leave me here, let me buy you time to get out of the city. Regroup and plan. Do not let your anger override your sense. There is no place for that rage you have inside of you right now. You must be smart about this. I am counting on you, the children are counting on you, the entire country is counting on you. Return with a cooler head to retake the capital.” 

Erik, annoyingly enough, felt tears well up in his eyes. He stepped forward and hugged the older man. 

“I love you, son. I should have told you that much more over the years. Never doubt the truth of it.” 

“And I, you.” 

Jakob squeezed him one last time before pushing him towards the door. 

“Go.” 

Erik had taken one more look at him before turning. The alpha spirit inside of him bashed at the walls of his soul, told him he was a coward for turning his belly and submitting, that he had to fight for what was his now and not later. He had pushed that urge down. His children would be the only family he had left. They needed him to protect them. The capital city of Krakoa and the rest of the kingdom of Genosha would be looking for him in the coming weeks to save them, so he could not give in to anger. 

He had resolved then to do this right. He had expected to have it done faster though. A sennight found him in this cottage in the outlying villages of the kingdom, miles from Krakoa and Lord Shaw. The distance meant safety, but it also meant a lengthier process for aggregating support, resources, and manpower. It was a sacrifice he made for his children. Were it just him, he would’ve returned the day after the siege and rained fire down on his traitorous lord’s head. He had far more responsibility than to act out of anger and vengeance. As much as he hated to admit it, that behavior had helped put him in this unenviable position. 

For safety’s sake, he could not be known to the masses as Erik Lehnsherr, the crown prince and unofficial king of Genosha. Shaw had men far and wide searching for the royal family. If they found him, they would kill Anya, Wanda, and Pietro. He would not allow anyone to get their hands on his children, so Erik Lehnsherr disappeared in favor of Max Eisenhardt, a widowed blacksmith visiting the defunct inn of Logan Howlett, an old battle acquaintance.

Logan had been a little reluctant when Erik showed up at his door with ten knights and three children but allowed Erik and the kids to stay since he felt he owed Erik. Erik had been the one to help Logan escape Krakoa when the nobles at court were calling for him to be punished for lewd and indecent acts for engaging in relationships with other alphas. The law in Genosha banning the fraternization of alphas was hardly sacrosanct. It was barely remembered and barely enforced, but Logan got on many people’s bad side with his disregard for propriety. Ultimately, no punishment would hurt him long term, his invulnerability saw to that, but being locked away for an indeterminate time was hardly ideal. Erik had always liked Logan’s brashness and held him in fond regard, so he helped him to safety. Now Logan returned the favor. 

Erik’s knights found lodging in the village while he remained sequestered in this inn in the woods, only going into town to strategize since ten men and women going to visit Logan Howlett, a disgraced alpha known to be living a lifestyle that was denounced by many and seen as illegal in some places, would cause too much suspicion. 

Erik appreciated the privacy that Logan’s unique situation afforded him, but it also left too much time to ponder. All he could think of was his father and what became of him. Not much word reached here apart from the king’s absence from public life. If he were dead, Shaw had not seen fit to announce it. He occupied Krakoa but made no moves to begin conquering any of the surrounding cities or settlements yet. Erik needed this resolved sooner rather than later. If his father was dead, he wanted to bury him at least. If he wasn’t, he could well imagine the torture Shaw was putting him through. 

“The moon is full,” he heard a voice say, breaking him from his musings. 

He turned to see Anya approaching him, her red hair reflecting the lights of the lantern. 

“I thought you were in bed,” he commented as the eight-year-old moved to sit on the windowsill across from him. 

“I was not tired.” 

The blue eyes she inherited from her mother captured the moonlight in such a way that he could not help but think of Magda on a midsummer’s night smiling brightly at him under a full moon, convincing him it was the perfect time for them to go hunting for frogs, or that they must go out and dance else the moon will think them rude and stop shining, or other silly things she convinced him to do when they were children and only knew love as an innocent thing, not the nuanced and passionate emotion that grew between them. 

“Papa, did you hear me?” 

“Hmm,” Erik uttered, snapping out of his reveries. 

Anya gave him a knowing look as he came back to himself. 

“You were thinking of Mama, were you not?” 

Erik opened his mouth to protest but she lifted a challenging eyebrow at him, the knowing glint in her eye never leaving. She was too young to have settled into a distinction, but nevertheless, he believed she would be an alpha. She was always quick to contest him or argue, but she was also shrewd and too smart for her own good. He would think her perceptiveness was down to a Gift if he didn’t know better. 

“I was thinking of many things, but yes, your mother was one of them.” 

Anya nodded to herself. She was five when Magda died. She remembered some things, but not a lot. She recalled much more about her Aunt Ruth, but she didn’t like talking about her. 

“Saba used to say that on full moons like this, the spirits of our loved ones can see us clearest. The light from the moon gives them enough light to see. Do you think that is true?” 

Erik glanced at his daughter. He remembered his mother telling him such fanciful tales as a child as well. Erik had believed her as he usually did. It was a lovely fantasy to tell children, just like telling them throwing coins in a fountain or well would grant wishes or that a true bond, tantamount to a preordained soulmate, was a phenomenon that actually existed. 

“I think our loved ones are always looking out for us, even on the other side.” 

Anya nodded sagely. She gave him a cautious look before speaking once more. 

“Is Saba one of them now?” 

Erik clenched his jaw, suppressing the jolt of anger. 

“I do not know.” 

Anya’s lips twisted unhappily. She saw more than Erik ever wanted her to see, knew too much about the conflict between their family and the Shaws. 

“When do you think we will go home?” 

“We are still pulling together allies, ground support. It should not be much longer.” 

“There is going to be a battle,” she inferred. 

“There must be, you understand that, right?” 

Anya didn’t answer him, instead looking down to play with the metal bracelet he had crafted for her so he could keep track of her. Sometimes Erik was certain she placed blame on him for this situation just as much as he placed blame on his own father, but she had never said so. He gave her a worried look as she suddenly tensed up.

“Someone is coming.” 

Erik looked outside, and sure enough, there was a shrouded figure making its way through the shadows cast by the trees towards the inn. 

“Go to your room now.” 

Anya didn’t fight him, simply scurried to the room designated hers. Erik got up and made his way out to the foyer where Logan was sitting by the hearth. 

“Howlett, company outside,” Erik informed him curtly. 

Logan looked up at him and scrunched his eyebrow before sniffing the air. He tensed and gestured Erik behind him. His claws extended, the boney appendages gleaming with a hint of blood as he approached the front door. Erik sought out every bit of metal in the room and quickly assessed what could be weaponized to neutralize this threat. The two alphas stayed on high alert until the silence was suddenly broken by a knock on the door. Logan glanced back at him. He indicated for Logan to speak. 

“Who is it,” he asked gruffly. 

“Charles,” an accented voice on the other side of the door said. 

Logan got a puzzled look on his face as he moved to open the door and revealed the stranger. 

It was a man, brunette, an omega if his smell was anything to go by. He was probably one of the more attractive people he’d ever seen. He was short, not unusual for omegas, with the bluest eyes and the reddest lips. The newcomer carried himself with an air of exhaustion and weariness. He had bags at his feet and was concealing something beneath his cloak and shawl. 

“Chuck? Holy hell, I never thought to see you here,” Logan commented, his voice betraying his surprise. 

The man smiled a grin so astoundingly beautiful, it made Erik’s stomach lurch. He stepped forward and pulled Logan into a side hug that made the alpha in Erik bristle. He reminded himself that Logan’s preference leaned more risqué than omegas and calmed himself down. 

“You have no idea the ordeal it took to get here, but I am so glad I managed, Godfather.” 

Erik rose an interested eyebrow at the mention of their connection. 

“I have not heard from you in some time,” the curt man pointed out, leaving the unspoken question hanging as the two pulled away from the hug. 

“Not by my choice, I assure you,” he said, leaving his answer vague. 

Logan nodded before the stranger’s gaze switched over to Erik. He realized he’d been standing silently the whole time, staring. This was hardly the first time Erik met an omega, but something about this man stopped him in his tracks and immediately captured his attention. There was a tugging in his chest to be closer to him. He didn’t understand the feeling, but he pushed it away in favor of introducing himself. 

“Charles, is it? Max Eisenhardt. I am lodging here with my children for the time being.” 

Charles suddenly bit his lip. Erik tried not to let his gaze be drawn to it. 

“I do hope you have some more space at the inn. I know it is short notice, we have arrived out of the blue. You do not have too many patrons today, do you? Only I did not notice the stables were full. We will not even object to the heathouse if it is available.” 

“I closed the inn ages ago, kid— just me living here nowadays. And now the Eisenhardts. Some of the rooms are not in the best conditions, but I can find some space for you.” 

“And David. If you have a nursery on the premises, I would not say no, but he can stay with me if it is more convenient.” 

“You brought the kid?” 

Charles moved aside the folds of fabric around himself to reveal a child in a harness strapped to his chest. He looked to be no older than two and was fast asleep. Logan stepped closer and inspected the boy. There was a small smile on his usually gruff face along with an air of melancholy that Erik couldn’t guess at the origin of. 

“Good looking kid. He looks like Brian,” Logan commented. 

The man smiled proudly. Erik wondered who this Brian was, whether he was Charles’ mate, but he dismissed the thought. He would’ve smelt that. In fact, his smell was all wrong now that he thought of it. The omega had the kind of scent to calm children almost instantly, but over that was an almost… chemical odor, the smell of formaldehyde and nitrogen. This was not the first time he’d smelt this, but as biological divorces were rare in Genosha, he had not much cause to encounter the scent often. If this man was biologically divorced, something drastic must’ve happened to drive him to it. It was a dangerous process, and likely to kill a beta or omega in extreme circumstances. It was outlawed in some places due to high death rates. Some omegas never experienced a heat afterward, which didn’t make pregnancy impossible, but it did make the risk of infertility, stillbirths, or death in childbirth higher. Here this man stood, alive, tired, and obviously running from something. 

Trouble was the last thing Erik needed. 

Logan caught his eye as Charles cooed over his son. Erik gave a small shake of the head, hoping Logan would get the message to send the two travelers on their way. Logan rose a challenging eyebrow at him. Erik shot him another look, but Logan glanced away. 

“Come on, Chuck. I will show you to a room. Two of Eisenhardt’s little ones are in the nursery but we have another crib for David to settle down in.” 

Erik gave Logan a glare as he led the duo towards the back of the cottage. Charles glanced at him as he passed and smiled. Weariness tinged the tug of lips, but it was still beautiful. Erik felt a sharper tug in his chest as the man passed. He looked away from him, his lip curled with distaste. The omega was attractive, despite all the things that made him seem to be of ill-repute. Erik shoved down the alpha in him that wished to pursue and capture, to take and mark. He was more than his base urges, he reminded himself. Besides which, there was a reason he was in this inn. It was not to socialize or unravel mysteries, he was here to work and that was all. He didn’t need any distractions. 

A wave of rage and darkness overtook the lustful urges. He latched on to it, let it fuel his determination to return to Krakoa as soon as he could and with as much power behind him as possible. Sebastian Shaw and his son had taken his sister from him, took his father, took his kingdom. Erik had taken from Shaw too in retaliation, but it was not enough. He needed to pay once and for all. Erik would not rest until the man was dead in front of him, by any means necessary. 


	2. A Breath of Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles takes stock of his new reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided I will post chapters every Sunday and Wednesday. I have already written 13 chapters so far and I want to end the story at 20 chapters at most, but we’ll see how that goes. It depends on how I get the characters to the ending I envision and how much I choose to elaborate on the different story points/plot beats.

Charles plopped down heavily on the bed designated his at Logan’s inn. Well, Logan’s home now. David was fast asleep, the long journey tuckering the two-year-old out. Charles had lain him in the nursery where slept two other children in cribs who looked to be of an age with his son. Mr. Eisenhardt’s twins, he was told. He also had an older daughter who was asleep. After that, he settled in this room with his belongings. It was a small room and mostly bare save the fireplace, a rickety desk, a wardrobe, a divider behind which was a chamber pot, and a double bed. Even so, Charles had not known more comfortable accommodations in years. He considered it a leg up to the mansion that had become his prison.

He walked over to the window. There wasn’t much of a view, mostly just forest and distant lights from the village beyond the boundary of the trees. He pushed the window open and took a deep breath of nature. The smell of evergreens and pines filled his nostrils and he relaxed. Weeks of planning and days of riding, trekking, sailing, and here he was: free. There was no Kurt to exert his will over his life, no Cain to force himself upon him, no bevy of supposed friends who knew exactly the brutality Charles endured in his forced marriage and did nothing to help, no doctors to force drugs down his throat to make him powerless and compliant. A genuine smile, however small, tugged at his lips at the notion of actual freedom. He reached behind him and touched the back of his right shoulder, feeling the indentations from one of Cain’s marks. It would fade with time just like his unappealing alpha stench had following the divorce, but for now, the evidence of his prior marriage remained. 

Charles was in a delicate position. He was a newly unbonded omega who had run from his alpha, got a biological divorce without his permission, and taken their child with him. That action would make his life forfeit in some circles, but Charles did not care. The lure of self-determination and autonomy far outweighed any fear of being labeled a pariah and exiled from the aristocracy. 

Cain didn’t care about David or Charles, but Kurt would never allow this embarrassment to stand. He would keep looking for them. Charles hoped the body of water between Genosha and his home country of Westchester hampered his efforts enough for Charles to decide what to do next. Perhaps he and David would get on a ship once more, sail across the sea to the Americas and see what it had to offer, but they would need money for that. 

Charles’ thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door.

“Yes?”

The door opened to reveal Logan. He shot his godfather a smile as he approached him. Logan had been in his life for as long as he could remember, even before Raven was adopted. He had been a dear friend and business associate of Charles’ father, so close that Brian named Logan his godfather. Charles remembered the man making frequent visits to the Xavier estate. He always made time to indulge Charles in all his whims. After Brian died, Charles hoped Logan would come to the Xavier estate, but Sharon forbade it when word got around that Logan had relations with fellow alphas. Still, Charles kept up a written correspondence until his marriage made it impossible.

Logan came to stand beside him and stared out the window. His scent wafted over to him. Charles had not been this close to an alpha since he left the Xavier estate. He had run to York to stay with Lord Stark, probably his last friend in Westchester. Tony was a beta and so was his wife. He had many people living with him, including alphas, but Charles stayed sequestered in his designated chambers, recuperating from all the years he had lost to Cain. Logan was different. Other than David, Logan was all the family he had left. The familiarity of him, the smell of leather, sea salt, and oak mixed with cigar smoke, reaffirmed that Charles was safe and far away from the Markos. He took another deep breath, seeking out the comforting scent, but it stuttered and rattled in his chest.

The biological divorce was hard on him. Tony had ensured he was treated by the best and Dr. Strange had undoubtedly made it a lot less painful than anecdotes would have him believe, but it was still a risky procedure prone to causing infections. The voyage, even though it had only taken five days, hadn’t helped his health either. Beyond that, he was not yet healed from his time with his ex-husband. Not for the first time, Charles wished the Markos weren’t away when he fled from Salem for York’s safer pastures. He wouldn’t have killed them, at least he didn’t think he would, but he would have made them pay for what they had done to him and David, what they took from them.

“Are you not well?” Logan asked, placing a hand on Charles’ shoulder.

“I am recovering. The divorce took its toll, though the doctor said I handled it better than most. My ribs are improving, but...” 

Logan made a gesture at his shirt for permission. If it were any other alpha, he might have refused, but he trusted Logan. Once Charles nodded, he lifted his garments and tugged the bandage away, peering past to see the injury. Logan let out a low growl of disapproval.

“It looked a lot worse days ago. The doctor gave me some bandages and salves before Tony bundled me off on the ship to Genosha.”

“Perhaps we should change your bandages now,” he suggested.

Charles nodded to his bags and let Logan lead him to the bed, where he sat down gingerly.

Logan went through his bags to find the salve and bandages he had for his ribs, as well as the elixirs Dr. Strange gave him to fight infection. Logan tended to him silently. He could see that his ribs were not as violet as before, nor protruding so noticeably. He was lucky they hadn’t punctured his lungs, or he might have died. Cain was never careful with him, never tried to watch his strength, even though he knew that with his Gift he could break bones with a flick of the fingers. But that was how Cain had always been. Even as a child, he used his superstrength to torment others and lord his physical superiority over their heads. He embodied some of the worst hallmarks of alphas: brash, uncaring, abusive, manipulative, rough, cold, and overbearing. Charles had been sure the moment Kurt thought to force a marriage between them that Cain would kill him one day. Even when he managed to run, he thought he would die at Tony’s estate from the combined hurt of the divorce and his ribs. After losing as much as he did to the Markos, to lose anything else was unthinkable. He didn’t realize he was projecting until Logan squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

“Shake it off, kid. You got away. You are here. That asshole is leagues away. If he ever made the mistake of showing up here looking for you, I’d send him back to his father in pieces.”

“You’re right. It’s just still a little raw for me. I didn’t think I would make it. I’m still processing the fact that I got away at all.”

“I’m not surprised you did. You were always stronger than you gave yourself credit for. Marko could try, but I knew he’d never break you.”

Charles let an appreciative smile alight his lips before knocking back one of the potions.

“How did you manage to get away from them? Did Stark help you out?”

“David.”

Logan rose an eyebrow.

“He manifested. He is a telepath too. He doesn’t quite know how to use his powers, but he’s strong and he knew what he wanted. He wanted me. He knew the doctors were giving me medication that made… well, it didn’t make me myself.”

He shuddered to think of days spent staring out a window vacantly, held down by a cocktail of suppressants, laudanum, and opioids.

“David wanted his father, so he influenced the doctors to stop giving me the medications. I was able to claw my way back to consciousness. When I realized what was happening, I started making plans to leave. It took patience, but once Cain and Kurt went off to a ball, I left under cover of night. I made my way to Tony’s estate. He let me stay until I got on my feet and figured out where to go next. I remembered you talking about your inn and thought I would try my luck.”

“Good thing you did. I am glad to see you. When you stopped writing, I got worried. I managed to get correspondence to Stark after a while, and he told me you were married to Cain, appealed to me to help you as your godfather. I planned to go and get you myself, but I ran into some trouble here.”

“I do not blame you for anything, Godfather.”

“Still, you will be safe here. No one from the village comes here. We have little connection with Westchester since we aren’t a trading village or near a port. And do not worry about Max. He seems like a rough son-of-a-bitch, but he stays quiet most of the time.”

Max Eisenhardt. What an unremarkable meeting that was. It was nothing more than a nod of the head, a silent presence, and an aloof glance away, and yet Charles had felt a flash of heat the moment he laid eyes on him. He was certainly pleasing to the eye. His auburn hair fell into his grey-green eyes, his tanned skin glowed warmly in the firelight, and his scent was an intoxicating musk of smoke and metal. Not an unattractive alpha at all, but not a temptation Charles could afford.

Logan snorted and Charles looked back at him.

“What is it?”

Logan shook his head with amusement but brushed Charles’ question aside.

“Nothing, kid. I just think the inn will be a good place for you to find some peace and happiness after what’s happened. You got a chance for a new life now for yourself and David. You should think about that, focus on it instead of the past. Anyway, you had a hard journey to get here. Get some rest.”

Logan got up and walked out of the room with a final salutation. Charles watched him go before he settled back in the bed, his mind cloudy with thoughts. He could not help but think once more of Mr. Eisenhardt.

He recalled the man looking away from him with a grimace when he had given him a polite smile. Charles was aware that he still smelled of the afterscent of his biological divorce. Mr. Eisenhardt must have made all sorts of assumptions about him already. He probably believed him to be of ill-repute. Perhaps he thought him a harlot seeking refuge with a fellow outcast. That wasn’t far off. In his teenhood, there had been much indulgence. He thought to make himself a trollop to embarrass Kurt and defy the forced engagement to Cain in hopes his stepfather, or even his mother, would call it off. It was to no avail. His dalliances only rewarded him with harsh fists and turned backs when he needed help due to his loose character.

No matter what Charles did now, he would forever be considered ruined. His onus in life as an omega was that he was to give everything he could possibly own to his mate. All property, all children, all money belonged to his mate. His very body was for his mate to do with as they pleased. He had no recourse beyond if an alpha from his birth family stepped in to dispute the bond. Even then, the grounds needed to be more substantive than simple spousal battery. That was expected and the omegas were meant to endure it, as was their lot in life according to the customs and laws of God and men. In defying those social mores, Charles had ousted himself and David from polite society.

That fact didn’t make him shed any tears of loss, but he had to be a realist. He was now in dire financial straits. He had only limited commerce, enough to buy food and clothing and hire horses if necessary, perhaps stay a while in a run-down inn, though thanks to Logan’s accommodations he needn’t worry about that. He would have to write to Tony and inform him he had reached safely. He was sure the beta would want to start sending him copious amounts of funds, but Charles did not want to be Tony’s latest charity case. Still, he would need more money soon. Perhaps he could find work in this village. Charles could teach and he had learned some bartending skills from a former lover. He could play piano too, so perhaps a job in a tavern or even a brothel. 

Charles turned around, careful of his ribs. He was going to get nowhere tonight. He was safe and so was David, that was what mattered for the time being. He shut his eyes and resolved to go to sleep.


	3. A Meeting of Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik has a meeting with his loyal knights.

If there was one thing Erik could say about himself, it was that once he put his mind to something, he did his utmost to achieve it. His dogmatism had seen many a legislation pass, had ensured that he married Magda, had propelled him to avenge his sister’s death, and now it was pushing him to do everything he could to throw Shaw out of Krakoa and reclaim his throne. 

Three more days had passed at Logan’s inn. Every day, Erik found himself going into the village to meet with his knights for updates on the situation at hand and strategizing his next move. He was growing impatient. Over a week since he had fled the capital and he felt that he was no closer to getting back. He was growing short with his loyal knights, the alpha spirit still smarting at having turned from a challenge. His knights bore his increasing ill-temper with grace.

Erik was glad of those he had accompanying him. They were all part of the elite Gifted fighting force Erik had championed, the Brotherhood. There was his second-in-command, Sir Azazel, who Erik had all but grown up with. Lady Emma Frost was his strategist. Her Gift of telepathy made her invaluable as a military tactician. She was one of two alphas besides him on the team, the other being Sir Alexander Summers. There was Sir Scott Summers as well, a beta and Alex’s younger brother, along with Sir Robert Drake, Sir Sean Cassidy, Lord Warren Worthington, Sir Mortimer Toynbee, Lady Heather Tucker, and Lady Elizabeth Braddock. 

Lady Elizabeth and Lord Warren were the only omegas on the team, which caused much consternation among critics of Erik’s Brotherhood. Those who protested did so under the guise of concern. It was only 30 years ago that omegas were permitted to join military service and obtain knighthood in Genosha. Those of the older generation still drug their feet about it, wishing to return to a less progressive time. Erik would never allow it. He was inclined to make many sweeping social changes once he took his throne back. Besides, Elizabeth had more than enough Gifts to handle herself and Warren was not helpless.

He had already sent Alex to Sokovia, Sean to Lensberg, Heather to Alkali City, Elizabeth to Briton and Warren to Silverthorne with missives to secure the support he needed. It was taking longer than he would like for his lords and ladies to answer the call. He had received pledges from many, which eased some tension, at least until this latest meeting.

“What do you mean there will be further delays?” Erik asked angrily as he stood in the back room of the village’s forge. 

He paid the village smith quite a bit of coin for his silence and privacy. In exchange, Erik got to hold meetings in this backroom and as the village believed him a blacksmith, no one was the wiser as to his real purpose.

“I have had word from my brother in Sokovia. Lord Heinrich is reluctant to pledge his men to fight for the capital. Shaw has sent word to selective cities promising his intent to leave them alone if they vow neutrality in the coming conflict,” Scott explained.

Erik rolled his eyes in response.

“If Lord Zemo is foolish enough to believe such asinine promises, then perhaps I should go to Sokovia myself and ensure someone with their wits about them oversees the city.”

“Somehow, I do not think that will help deter the rhetoric Shaw is spreading about you,” Emma pointed out.

“What rhetoric?” 

“He is taking a most unexpected but not unintelligent tactic: build you and your father up like villains and tear you down. Impart upon the nobles how necessary this coup was, preach about how ineffectual your father was. After all, if the accusations lodged against him and his son in regards to Princess Ruth are true, then King Jakob could not protect his daughter, so how could he be expected to protect Genosha? Beyond that, he is making you out to be a tyrant, portraying his son as a victim, and expounding upon the tragedy of his murder at your hand—” 

“A duel is hardly murder. If I sought to murder him, I would have made it hurt more,” Erik spat, cutting Emma off. 

He was getting riled up at the memory of that duel: he and Shinobi Shaw fighting each other tooth and nail, swords and Gifts, alpha to alpha until neither could stand. Erik had nearly died a few times that day. He bore more scars from the younger Shaw than he cared to, but none worse than the emotional wound. Nothing that day hurt so much as holding his baby sister’s battered body in his arms. Cold, still and broken, evidence of her suffering splayed across nearly every inch of bruised skin. Killing Shinobi had been a sense of momentary satisfaction. It filled him with dark joy to see the other alpha floundering in a pool of his own blood. It wasn’t until later when Erik was lying in a medical bay with Anya crying into his chest and his father glaring at him disapprovingly that the haze of rage and bloodlust lifted. He knew there would be political implications from his actions, but everything that happened was in accordance with the laws of Genosha and the rules of a fair duel.

Emma gave him a look of warning and a sharp telepathic nudge, wordlessly telling him to calm himself as he bared his teeth, his hackles raised. She glared at him hard but made no move to challenge him outright.

“Do not put me in this position, my prince. I do not want to choose between whether I must meet you as an alpha or your knight,” she intoned, her voice softer than he would have expected. 

He held her ice-blue eyes, as cold and sharp as her diamond form before looking away. He took a deep calming breath that only made a negligible difference. 

“Scott, continue to keep an ear out for your brother’s updates from Sokovia and get in contact with Lady Jean for another update from the capital. Find out if she was able to learn anything new about my father. Bobby and Mort, I want you to make haste to our nearest weapons store. Secure it. I don’t want to lose anything while we wait. Emma, begin drafting battle tactics. Chart the number of Gifted in our army if we get maximum support versus humans, as well as alphas versus betas and omegas. Draft each company accordingly. We will go over the strategies when next we meet.”

He watched Emma, Mortimer, Robert, and Scott nod before leaving the room, each throwing him a wary glance. Azazel stayed behind. Once the others left, the beta leveled him with a look equal parts understanding and reproachful. He had been Ruth’s sworn shield and went with her when she first moved to Hellfire to marry Shinobi but was soon banished back to Krakoa by the Shaws when they accused him of having impure intentions towards the princess. Erik knew it was a lie. Azazel saw Ruth as a sister and a friend, and so he took her death as a personal failure as much as Erik did.

“I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that,” the exiled prince commented, dropping onto the edge of the desk in the smith’s office.

“Perhaps not, but we all understand the source of that anger. What Shaw has done has won him no friends.”

“But has it created the enemies necessary for us to have a viable army?”

“He has made it a habit to flaunt himself as above all human lords and ladies in Genosha and has challenged all the Gifted nobles in one way or another. His chickens will come home to roost, Erik.”

“I will make sure of that much. I am determined for him to pay, and he shall, but…”

“But?”

Erik sighed to himself, reluctant to speak any further about his concerns for himself when it came to Shaw. He liked to portray a veneer of perfect control, but something about the Shaws got under his skin, causing a near incontrollable rage to grow inside him to the point where he could not think of the consequences of his actions. After that duel, he swore he would be better. He had a responsibility to Genosha, to his children and father to be smart about this, but this situation tested him. Lord Shaw must know that and that was why he bided his time. He wanted Erik to get reckless and make a stupid mistake. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself not to.

“It’s of no consequence. He will die, that is all,” he said in dismissal, trying to banish the anxious thoughts.

The red-skinned man held his gaze for a moment longer but chose not to push him.

“How are the children?” He asked instead.

“They are as well as can be expected. Wanda still has nightmares near every night. Pietro seems perfectly content with his lot as long as he can cause some mischief. Anya is taking things in stride. She understands what’s happening better than they do, so helps how she can.”

“She still pushing to join our meetings,” Azazel questioned, his tone hedging on amusement. 

Erik snorted in an undignified manner.

“Only every day.”

Azazel and Erik both smiled fondly as they thought of the tenacious little princess, mature beyond her years.

“She seems happy enough to remain at Logan’s inn despite her wish to join me. She’s made friends with Howlett’s lodger.”

“He has reopened the inn?”

“No, he has opened it to his godson and the man’s child. He seems to have arrived in some disgrace, but Howlett says he is beyond reproach. Anya has become taken with him, talking throughout the day and night about books and the like.”

“Is that safe at the moment?”

“It seems harmless. I doubt Howlett would ever be working with Shaw. The omega appears perfectly hapless, all but clueless about Genosha. He is from across the sea if his accent is any indicator. The acquaintanceship distracts her at any rate.”

Anya still asked about the state of things in Krakoa and Erik kept her as updated as he felt comfortable with. He could never pin down what her thoughts were on the subject. She kept them close to the chest. She was too much like him in those respects. He wished he were a telepath sometimes just to get inside her mind. Her budding friendship with Charles was a timely distraction. Erik could not help but notice how easily they got along even as he avoided the newcomer. Anya was friendly by nature, but this seemed different for some reason he could not identify.

Azazel nodded and then paused, thinking deeply about something.

“We know this is going to come to a fight. All of us are expecting it, but if word from Lady Grey and her daughter is true, there are a few nobles at court and even those within Genosha’s Council of Twelve who have sided with Shaw. Lord Stryker, Lord Trask, Lord Wyngarde, and the like, are not anyone different than we could’ve expected, but we need to secure our allies sooner rather than later. We are safe here for now and Sebastian hasn’t left Krakoa, so we’re at a stalemate. Let us use this time wisely. Send me to Sokovia. I will personally treat with Lord Zemo to get him on our side. Without the city, we don’t have the men to march on Krakoa even if the others succeed in their missions.”

“I need you here. I trust you more than anyone.”

“Our meetings will go no further without confirmation of what forces we can expect. Besides, some of the villagers are getting suspicious so we should hold off on meetings until the others return. Let me do this for you, Erik. Let me do this for Ruth. I will not fail her, not again.”

Erik stared undecidedly at the older man before assenting.

“I will draft a letter for you to bring along. Lord Heinrich has an omega son, Helmut, does he not? I will express in the letter my intent to seriously consider a marriage alliance should the lord be amenable to my cause.”

Azazel rose an eyebrow.

“I thought after Magda…”

“I will do what is necessary. It’s not a promise nor a binding oath, just an… olive branch if you will.”

“He will not see it that way.”

“I’m counting on it. If anything, the son of the lord of the largest city outside of the capital is not a bad political prospect. If the match proves unfavorable or impossible for whatever reason, I still have some wiggle room.”

Azazel acquiesced.

“Either way, I will not return without the men we need.”

“I believe you.”

The two men clasped forearms and let a moment of familiarity and understanding pass between them. In an instance like this, Ruth would’ve said something rude or teasing. She never enjoyed somber or reflective moments very much. Azazel would’ve made some sarcastic quip in response and Ruth would’ve laughed loudly and unabashedly before shooting Erik the patented Lehnsherr grin, too wide with too many teeth. Erik would’ve feigned annoyance, but he was always secretly amused at Ruth’s ability to inject levity into just about any situation. He did not know where she gained the ability from, nor her overwhelming optimism and hope.

Erik penned his letter to Lord Zemo and left it with Azazel. The knight went off to alert his fellows about this change of plan and Erik left the smithy for the village outside. It was a bustling hub untouched by Shaw’s invasion of the capital. He had heard some people gossiping about it, but for the most part, it was a non-factor. At least for now. If Shaw settled into power, Erik had no doubt he’d send men out to raid unsuspecting villages like this one.

As he walked, some of the friendlier villagers greeted him. He nodded back to those who did and smiled at a few. None here recognized him as the prince. This village was too far from the capital for them to know him by sight. He did not often talk to these villagers, so they would not know that his breeding was above theirs. Besides that, his association with Logan gave him a wider berth. Still, overall, it was a welcoming village for someone who portrayed themselves in an inoffensive manner, like he did. Even so, Erik wanted nothing so much as to leave. It was hardly their fault, but this was not his home. He was not made for country living.

His thoughts suddenly turned to the omega he was lodging with. He had been avoiding him as much as he could. He still felt that annoying nudge in his chest to get closer to him, to be swept up in a haze of lust and want, but he ignored it. His stubborn resolve to steer clear of distractions had, in some respects, made him act out of turn with the attractive omega. Anya had noticed and thoroughly chastised him for his behavior toward her new friend. She accused him of hating the man and purposefully making him uncomfortable so he would leave, thus they’d have the inn for themselves once more. It was not a bad plan, but Erik was not so diabolical or insidious as all that. 

He would have been more direct if he wanted the omega to leave, but in truth, he did not. Charles’ scent was coming in now, the overbearing stench of the divorce fading. He smelt like black tea leaves, cinnamon, parchment paper, roasting chestnuts, and something sweeter that Erik could not identify. So many clashing scents in a single person should’ve been off-putting, but it called to Erik like a moth to a flame. He found himself gazing at the man when he was not looking. Howlett had noticed and taken to giving Erik knowing but warning looks. He had already given him a stern lecture against pouncing on his godson, as if Erik lacked self-control. He was attracted to him and his alpha side could rear its ugly head in explosive anger at inopportune moments, but he would never force himself on another. He had restraint in that respect. He exercised it by keeping away from the man. It helped that he left the cottage quite regularly for meetings, but if he would be staying there for extended periods, he had no clue what that was going to do to his resolve.

He shook his head to himself. Charles wasn’t his and never would be. Soon, Erik would be leaving and Charles would be nothing more than a distant memory, mixed in with the sea of muddled encounters with other attractive individuals. Nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we get a little more backstory into what happened between the Lehnsherrs and the Shaws here. Next chapter will have a lot more interaction between Charles and Erik.


	4. An Olive Branch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik finally talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor edits were made to the previous chapters to better establish the time period as the mid to late 19th century.

Charles walked along the hill above Logan’s inn. The cottage was still visible from this incline despite the trees surrounding it, but it allowed one to stretch their legs without trampling through the dense forestry that secluded the inn from the rest of the village. Young Anya walked at Charles’ side picking wildflowers and more impressive blooms. Charles smiled at his newest companion as the wind ruffled her auburn locks. Indulging in such leisure activity had become a sizeable facet of his existence. He spent most of his time at or around the inn. Charles was having a hard time gaining employment in the village. Not many high-standing places wanted to hire an unbonded omega. It posed security risks if he went into heat in a place like a pub or a brothel. Few parents wanted him around their children despite the fact the scent of the divorce had faded. He was not trusted. He chose to let it run off his back. Getting angry felt like it was giving the Markos too much power over him. 

In lieu of employment in the village, he cleaned the inn for Logan, mucked out his stables, and cared for the horses. Logan claimed his efforts weren’t needed, especially given his ribs had not fully healed yet, but Charles insisted. He wasn’t used to menial tasks, having grown up with servants, but this was what his life was fated to be. He had better make an effort to get used to it. Besides, he hated the idea of living entirely off the generosity of his friends. Tony hadn’t let him lift a finger or pay for anything when he was in York. It had grated at his pride to be so helpless and burdensome. He didn’t want a repeat. 

Beyond that, he spent time with Logan when he was home but mostly with David or Anya. The drugs Kurt kept him on robbed him of the first two years of his son’s life. He made up for it now: playing with him, teaching him, caring for him, connecting with him. David had no qualms being separated from Cain, not that Charles was surprised. His son had been raised by maids and servants. Children usually had a closer connection to their omega or beta parent at a young age anyway, but alphas weren’t expected to be absent from the childrearing process. Cain never showed David middling interest. There was nothing for David to miss in Westchester. 

As for Anya Eisenhardt, she was a happy surprise for him. The little girl had been wary of him at first, but soon took to him after she found him reading one of her books and they began a rather long-winded discussion on the merits of romance literature. Mr. Eisenhardt didn’t appear to have an issue with it. He proved to be something of an enigma to Charles. He had been at the inn for a week now and Mr. Eisenhardt had not seen fit to speak very much to him, nor truly acknowledge his presence. Charles was initially nervous, but it turned out that he needed not to worry because Mr. Eisenhardt avoided him as if he were diseased. Charles would see the man in the mornings when they broke their fast and then only in glimpses thereafter. Sometimes when Charles walked into the common room, the other man would get up and walk out, not at all subtle in his standoffishness. Charles could only conclude that the unspoken truths about him made the man give him a wide berth. In truth, it was all the better. Charles needed to focus on getting his life in order, not on a stranger, no matter how alluring he was. If they had met any other time... 

Mr. Eisenhardt’s daughter was the opposite of her father. She proved a happy and willing conversationalist, engaging Charles about all sorts of things, from literature to astronomy to botany to music and poetry. She was a very learned girl for being a blacksmith’s daughter, but Charles did not know how the hierarchy worked in this new, strange land or what the educational system was like. He didn’t even know the king’s name. Living in Salem, a landlocked city in Westchester, it was not prudent for him to learn about Genosha. Other cities traded with the island nation and brought their wares to the marketplace of Salem. If Genosha was a place where a blacksmith’s child had the opportunity to an education commonfolk in Charles’ homeland could only dream of, then he found the kingdom a pleasant place to find refuge. At least he knew he could find education for David despite the backward slide in social status. That was a future problem. Employment was the first hurdle to jump, elsewise he had only saved his son from a gilded cage to thrust him into poverty. 

“You’re thinking very deeply about something,” Anya observed, snapping him from his musings. 

“What’s troubling you?” 

Charles waved a dismissive hand. 

“Adult worries. Nothing for you to bother yourself with.” 

She shot him a glare. 

“I don’t appreciate being patronized.” 

A short laugh escaped his pursed lips at her words. 

“No, that would never do. All the same, my tales of woe are personal and nothing for me to dump at your doorstep.” 

“There _are_ tales of woe then.” 

Anya had been trying to pry his life story out of him from the moment he met her. She was too clever by half and found meanings in the things he didn’t say just as much as what he did. If he didn’t know better, he’d think her to have spent time at a royal court of some sort or even a noble’s court, but she was too young to have been presented to the realm.

“Your father would hardly be pleased for a stranger to tell his 8-year-old his intimate business, I’d expect.” 

“My father doesn’t always know what’s best,” she replied with a surety that made Charles curious. 

After a moment, his silence caused her to revert to the behavior of a child her own age, a rare enough occurrence. 

“Why must you be so secretive?” She whined in displeasure. 

“Why must you know every intricate detail of my life?” He countered. 

“I’m curious.” 

“Hardly worth the curiosity.” 

“The way you guard this secret says otherwise. You are obviously of some breeding, and you’re not from Genosha. That alone makes me curious.” 

“If you rather astutely figured that out, then you must’ve also concluded that it is a sad tale better left unsaid.” 

Anya bit her lip thoughtfully before answering him. 

“Is it a matter of life and death?” 

Charles looked down at her after the tentative question. He wondered if he should respond truthfully and bandied about ideas before answering. 

“Yes. I feel quite secure in saying the situation is that dire.” 

“Oh. I understand such matters better than you’d expect,” Anya muttered, playing with her metal bracelet.

Charles assumed she was thinking of her deceased mother. He noticed that lost, forlorn look in the mirror when he thought of his father. He hoped that was all she meant. It’d be a crying shame for a young girl as bright as Anya to be forced to grow up too quickly due to grief’s cruel pall, although it seemed she was determined to be an adult before her time. 

“I don’t want any harm to befall you or David. I’ve not known you long, but I would never wish you ill.” 

Charles gave her a fond side glance. 

“You should stay in Genosha,” she continued. 

“I hadn’t decided yet. David and I may sail to Latveria or Akkaba or even Wakanda if we’re willing to press our luck. I hear they are accommodating to Gifted individuals seeking asylum.” 

“Oh, but you must remain here. Genosha will have you happily. If you stay, I’ll have my father look over you. He can appear unfriendly sometimes, but that’s only if you don’t know him. He is very protective of those who he claims as his own. In truth, he is the strongest and most worthy alpha in the whole kingdom, nay, the world. You will be safe here, I promise.” 

Charles graced her with a smile for her zealous proclamation. 

“Your vote of confidence means the world.” 

Charles and Anya turned, both startled to see Mr. Eisenhardt climbing up the hill to meet them. Anya’s eyes lit up as she ran towards her father, seemingly forgetting their conversation. He knew she would begin pressing him for details of his past again eventually. He watched the father and daughter embrace, Mr. Eisenhardt swinging the giggling girl in a circle before clutching her to his chest. Anya presented him with the flowers she’d picked, and he accepted with a kiss to her forehead. Charles tried to keep out of people’s minds as a rule, but it was impossible to ignore the love and happiness the two exuded when near one another, a stark contrast to the stoicism Mr. Eisenhardt displayed otherwise. 

He felt a sharp stab of envy and heartbreak. He took a moment to let his old melancholy wash over him. Charles was a being who felt deeply, telepaths usually were, and the first person he could remember loving fiercely and truly was his father. His childhood until ten years old was filled with memories of picnics, walks, games, and adventures spent by Brian’s side. His father would read to him at night and tuck him in with a kiss. They would ride horses together, play chess, observe nature, and conduct experiments. When Charles manifested at six years old, where Sharon became distant and looked at him as evidence of her failures, Brian saw him as extraordinary and perfect the way he was. He went as far as adopting an orphaned Gifted child, Raven, so Charles would not feel alone. 

He often wondered what life would’ve been like if his father had lived, but there was nothing for it now. Brian Xavier had died fourteen years prior, leaving his two children to fend for themselves amid a household beset by a neglectful alcoholic mother and an abusive stepfamily. Worst still was Charles’ fate to settle as an omega. He shivered as he remembered strong unwanted hands on his body, medicine shoved down his throat and fists colliding with his skin. 

“Cold, are you?” 

Charles looked over at Mr. Eisenhardt as he addressed him, his expression unreadable. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“You’re shivering.” 

Charles was confused before realizing he was allowing himself to wear his emotions on his sleeve. 

“Not cold, per se. It is a bit breezy up here,” he answered, trying to keep his voice steady and not let on how embarrassed he was to appear so weak before this alpha who seemed carved from stone, immovable and impassive. 

Mr. Eisenhardt assessed him critically before he, surprisingly, made to remove his overcoat. 

“Oh no, it’s quite alright. I’m not half so waifish.” 

“You look as if a stiff breeze would bowl you over.” 

Mr. Eisenhardt did not say so mockingly, but Charles could not help but be affronted by the statement. 

“Perhaps I’m not physically robust or tall as most, but I’m hardly a wastrel.” 

Mr. Eisenhardt stopped his actions. He stood up straighter and looked at Charles in a manner that he interpreted as imperious at best, so the man’s next words were unexpected. 

“I meant no offense. I just made an observation that you appeared chilled. My coat could remedy that. I tend to run hot, so it is no skin off my back to lose it. I apologize if you took umbrage with my assumption.” 

Charles deflated, feeling foolish for having been upset at all. It was a perfectly reasonable assumption to make to think a coatless shivering person was chilly. Besides which, he had lost substantial weight during his five-year marriage and even though the infection from the divorce cleared up, he was still pale and probably appeared sickly. 

“No offense was given in truth. My tone did not reflect my true regard towards the request. The offer is appreciated,” he replied in a softer tone. 

The man approached him and Charles felt his heart pick up as the alpha placed his coat across his shoulders. He was enveloped in Mr. Eisenhardt’s scent, the smell of iron and smoke with fainter tones of sandalwood and petrichor. His omega instinct told him to luxuriate in the scent, to go to the alpha and submit himself, but he had gotten good at controlling such urges. Besides, it would be horribly unseemly to lose himself in front of a child. He glanced over at Anya as Mr. Eisenhardt stepped away. Her eyes were narrowed as she looked between the two men before coming to some unknown conclusion. 

“That was very nice of you, Father. I was just saying to Charles that he must stay in Genosha with David. I was telling him—” 

“That you would expound even more upon the many beauties and attractions of the country,” Charles interrupted before she said something that embarrassed him even more. 

She shot him a knowing look but didn’t comment. Mr. Eisenhardt rose an unimpressed eyebrow. Charles looked away, his cheeks burning. 

“I was going to tell Charles about the pink sand beaches on the far east of the island, but you could describe it better than me, Father.” 

Charles rose an interested eyebrow and looked at the older man curiously. Mr. Eisenhardt seemed reluctant, but with barely a moment’s notice, he dived into a detailed description of the island’s geography. The academic in Charles ate it all up. It had been too long since his curiosity had been sated in any meaningful way. He used to meet up with fellow scholars before his marriage. They would debate and trade information for hours on end. Sharon never did much for Charles, but she had allowed him his education and made sure he completed his courses when he got into university early. Then again, perhaps she’d only done it to flaunt her son’s virtuosity to her friends. The reason didn’t matter in the end. 

Charles was so enraptured by all Mr. Eisenhardt’s descriptions that he hardly noticed the passage of time, or Anya’s absence, until the dying sun beamed in his eye. 

“Goodness, where did the time go?” Charles wondered aloud. 

Mr. Eisenhardt appeared just as surprised as him. 

“I couldn’t say.” 

“I supposed time flies when you’re enjoying yourself. You have quite the way with words, I must say.” 

“You’d be the first to compliment me on loquaciousness if not eloquence.” 

“You could be a poet, I’m convinced.” 

Mr. Eisenhardt snorted in amusement. Charles was pleased to have made him utter such a sound. 

“Now I know you are being sarcastic. Only someone who does not know me well would say such a thing.” 

“Picturesque snow-capped mountains to the north, caves filled with gems of every color under the sun, pink sand beaches, a temple made of glass and crystal, valleys of flowers found nowhere else on Earth. It all sounds fantastically poetic. I’d expect such scenes described only in the pages of a novel. The way you speak of Genosha would make anyone eager to call it home. I find myself anxious to explore the attractions and natural beauties you described.” 

A fond smile curved Mr. Eisenhardt’s lip, not the first smile he’d ever seen the man give, but there was a difference between this smile and the one he gave his children. He projected contentment and adoration. It was a pleasing sight. 

“Genosha is as much a part of me as I am of it. It always has been and it always will be.” 

Charles stared a moment longer and then averted his gaze, realizing that that must be what it felt like to belong to a place, to have somewhere that was home, that was synonymous with yourself. 

“I’m sure Westchester must have been that way for you,” Mr. Eisenhardt concluded. 

He could not hold in the bitter laugh that escaped his lips in response. Sharon would’ve been mortified at his lack of decorum. That thought gave him even less incentive to affect a façade. 

“No, I can’t say that it was. Once perhaps, a long time ago.” 

_Before my father died_ , he left unsaid.

Grief had built rooms and opened doors inside him, let him explore hallways of dark thoughts and hard truths about himself and life. Once learned, he could never make himself fit into Westchesterian society again. He was born and bred for the life of gentility and gentry but could no longer stand the shallowness he found in every facet of life in his homeland.

Mr. Eisenhardt leveled him with a scrutinizing gaze, but Charles offered no further explanation. Divulging too much of his past was ill-advised. 

“Well, maybe my daughter was right. Genosha has no qualms against opening her arms to anybody who would wish to call her home.” 

Charles glanced up at him, not mentioning the other half of Anya’s declaration, that Mr. Eisenhardt could offer him protection and safety if he claimed Charles as his own. He didn’t know if he wanted to be claimed after spending so long with Cain. Freedom was a shiny, new bauble that he had not grown bored with just yet. It was moot to think of in terms of Mr. Eisenhardt. Charles could hardly see the man wanting him in that way. He could scarcely be in a room with him. One day, eventually, would Charles want to be bonded or married again? Would he have a choice? He needed to find a way to get income. If that meant getting married to someone he didn’t know or love, he would do it for David. 

The two men walked back to the cottage in silence, but the quiet was comfortable after hours of talking. Mr. Eisenhardt held the door open for him when they returned and then walked off into the cottage without another word. Charles stared after him, curious and unsure about this interaction, but decided not to push it. 

He joined the others for dinner that night and read a book in the common room. Mr. Eisenhardt did not immediately vacate the room when Charles walked in, but they did not talk. He even offered Charles the chair closest to the fire as it was unseasonably chilly. Charles was perplexed about the sudden shift after one conversation but never asked. 

He went to bed that night but found he could not sleep. For some reason, his worries chose that night to haunt him. He wondered what was happening in Salem. Cain and Kurt knew he was gone. Cain was probably still doing what he always did: sleeping with everything he could find, drinking, wasting the Xavier fortune on frivolous expenses, having his ass kissed by fair-weather friends. Kurt, though a brute, was calculating, cunning, and resourceful. He would not rest until he found Charles again. Perhaps he would simply kill him, or he would take him back to Salem and torture him. Maybe he’d give him to one of his unsavory friends, like Lord Creed. Charles felt a shiver of disgust go down his spine as he thought of the animalistic alpha, even more of a licentious beast than Cain. 

_They don’t know where I am. They will never find me,_ he reassured himself. 

He had tried to cover his bases as much as possible when he escaped. He left no loose ends that he could remember. Lord and Lady Stark would not give him up to the Markos, nor would Logan. That did not mean he didn’t make an error somewhere. If Cain found him, if he found David… Cain never had any care for him, he could not be sure he wouldn’t harm their son. 

_No, my son. He is mine and mine alone_ , he reassured himself once again. 

He jolted as a stab of displeasure made itself known on the periphery of his telepathic reach. He immediately recognized David from their bond. He kept the link between them closed for the most part. He wanted David to develop his powers and awareness on his own. At two years old, David manifested early. The Gifted usually developed their capabilities after turning seven, but it wasn’t unheard of for Gifts to present as early as birth. Charles thanked every deity that David was an outlier, otherwise they would probably still be trapped. 

He pushed himself out of the narrow bed as David let another tendril of his displeasure reach him. He walked towards the room designated as the nursery. It was the warmest room in the inn and probably one of the largest as well. There were three cribs inside, each holding a child. David was to the right side of the chamber and Mr. Eisenhardt’s two youngest were to the left side. 

He approached David’s crib. His son was asleep but fussing around, a look of irritation on his face. Charles curiously peeked into his mind. He caught flashes of what looked to be a battle. 

The payload from siege weapons flew overhead, people were screaming in the distance with the sounds of cannon fire resounding periodically. He felt fear and panic seeping into him as he took in the scene before he was jostled. He turned to the person holding him only to see Mr. Eisenhardt. 

“It’ll be alright, Wanda. Everything will be okay.” 

Charles pulled away from the nightmare and glanced back at the girl in the crib behind him. He cautiously peeked and sure enough, she was having the same dream. David must’ve unwittingly latched on to it. Charles gently severed the connection and watched David’s face gradually smooth out. He turned back to the young girl, only a year older than David, and was thinking what to do when her cry suddenly broke the silence of the night. 

Charles’ heart broke for the child as she began to sob. 

“Oh, it’s alright,” he cooed as he approached the crib. 

Wanda looked up at him, awash with fear and dread. He sent out a small wave of reassurance as he continued to approach her. She relaxed her tense body but continued to look at him anxiously. 

“Did you have a bad dream, darling?” 

Wanda nodded in reply, fat tears rolling down her face. 

“You mustn’t cry. It was just a dream. You’re safe here. There’s no battle.” 

The toddler gave him a pitiful look before holding her arms out to him. He hesitated. Mr. Eisenhardt didn’t seem to hate him, and they had a pleasant conversation earlier, but he previously didn’t look favorably upon Charles. He could only imagine what the man thought. Here Charles was, an omega reeking of the afterscent of a biological divorce, traveling with a child so he could go live with an alpha he was not bonded to. He was a walking taboo. Then again, Mr. Eisenhardt must not look so unfavorably upon the taboo if he kept company with Logan. Beyond that, he didn’t object to Charles’ companionship with Anya… not that Charles thought the girl would listen to her father. She was quite precocious. It seemed to him if she were of a mind to do something, she would. 

Charles decided to throw caution to the wind and closed the distance, picking up the crying child. She settled her body against his chest, clutching on to his nightshirt and stuffing her nose into his neck. He moved to sit in the rocking chair near the window, adjusting the girl so she was not pressed against his tender ribs, and began rubbing a hand up and down her back. 

He mumbled reassurances and comforting words to her as her tears dried. Not knowing what else to do, he began telling her a story. He thought up fairy princesses and beautiful maidens on the fly, a true bonded pair who fell in love at first sight and fought against the forces trying to separate them. Eventually, Wanda steadily went limp in his arms. He stayed there even after her breathing evened out, not quite falling asleep but drifting on the edges of consciousness. He was not sure how much longer it was before he was startled awake by the feeling of a person pulling Wanda away. He jerked and held her tighter in response. 

“Shh, it’s alright.” 

Charles relaxed when he realized it was merely Mr. Eisenhardt. 

“My apologies, I must’ve dozed off,” Charles said, relinquishing the child to her father. 

Charles watched him lay her down in the crib and cover her adequately before pressing a kiss to her forehead. He motioned Charles to follow him out of the room. 

The two men walked towards the kitchen silently, neither entirely sure why. Mr. Eisenhardt went about making two cups of tea. They unobtrusively sipped it for a few minutes, both comfortable with the hush in the otherwise quiet house before Charles felt compelled to speak. 

“I hope I didn’t overstep.” 

Mr. Eisenhardt rose an eyebrow in response. 

“Your daughter. She was having a nightmare and wished for comfort. I hope I didn’t overstep my bounds.” 

Mr. Eisenhardt waved a dismissive hand. 

“It’s perfectly understandable. Wanda has been plagued with nightmares of late. I had gone to check on her since I did not hear her crying tonight.” 

“It seemed like a horrible dream. There was a battle…” 

Charles let the unspoken question hang. Mr. Eisenhardt stiffened minutely. 

“I’m sure there was. Thank you for putting her back to sleep.” 

Charles took the implied refusal for what it was. It wasn’t his place to know anyway. 

“My scent probably did that more than any particular skill did,” he replied to Mr. Eisenhardt’s misplaced gratitude before blushing. 

The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to his scent with this alpha who he was, undeniably and inconveniently, attracted to. 

“Surely you have some tricks of the trade from your time with David by now,” Mr. Eisenhardt commented instead of addressing Charles’ embarrassing slip-of-the-tongue. 

That was a marginally better subject than his scent but not by much. Charles could not explain to this stranger that his parenting was limited to the last few months, whereas previously he was too drugged up to remember his child even existed. 

“No, no tricks just yet. I mostly just rely on my telepathy.” 

The other man frowned. 

“Telepathy?” 

“Yes, I’m Gifted. Is that… is that a problem for you?” Charles asked as he noticed a shadow cross the man’s face. 

“No. I’m Gifted as well.” 

Charles watched the two teaspoons they used float effortlessly into the air, do a few spins before his eyes, then return to the table. He smiled brightly at the display. 

“That’s brilliant. Is it telekinesis?” 

“Metals.” 

“Simply amazing.” 

Mr. Eisenhardt snorted to himself. 

“It was just some spoons. Hardly an impressive showcase of my skills.” 

“Well, I was suitably impressed.” 

“I’d ask for a demonstration of your abilities, but I prefer to keep my thoughts private.” 

Charles recognized the request in his words. 

“Of course. I do my best to stay out of people’s heads if I can help it. Naturally, there is only so much I can block out. Some thoughts are too loud or feel as if they are projected to me, but I do my utmost to maintain privacy between myself and others. My father instilled those values in me when I manifested, and my sister made sure I upheld them.” 

Mr. Eisenhardt sat up straighter. 

“You have a sister?” 

“I do.” 

“Are you close?” 

“We were. She was adopted, but the lack of blood relation never made us any less close.” 

“You said you were? Is she…?” 

It took Charles a moment to understand. 

“She isn’t dead, just married. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her following the wedding,” Charles explained, leaving the matter there. 

It was too much to explain that Kurt had forced Raven to marry someone, just like he had Charles, and like Charles, Raven eventually ran. He did not know where in the world she was. It saddened him, but he hoped she was happy and safe. 

“Do you have siblings, Mr. Eisenhardt?” 

“A sister, and Max is fine. I’ve no last name for you at any rate, so it seems bad form not to extend the same courtesy your omission has afforded me.” 

Charles hadn’t realized he’d left his last name out, but he refused to be referred to as a Marko and biological divorce or not, he could no longer call himself a Xavier as per the laws of Westchester, so he was without a family name now. He’d rather be a nobody than a Marko any day. 

“I prefer people call me Charles in truth. Are you and your sister close then?” 

“We were. I practically raised her after my mother died. She is no longer living, I’m sad to say.” 

Mr. Eisenhardt, Max, kept his face carefully blank, but the moonlight revealed the pain in his eyes. Beyond that, Charles could no more ignore the wall of emotion coming from the man as he could the teacup in his hands. There was undoubtedly grief, love, and pain, but so much rage behind it that it surprised Charles. He didn’t know that depth of anger was possible. It felt like a punch to the gut. He had to grip his mug, so he didn’t drop it. 

“I am so sorry for your loss. Family is a terrible thing to lose,” he eventually managed to say. 

“I appreciate your condolences. It’s a recent loss, my sister, you’ll understand if I don’t wish to expound on the subject.” 

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of prying, my friend.” 

“Friend?” 

“Sorry?” 

“Am I your friend already?” 

Charles blushed again, averting his gaze. How many times was Max going to reduce him to this undignified blushing mess? Charles had never been so bashful, not even as a teen. There was no unforgettable first love back then, no innocuous love affairs, no demure coquetries. Anything he did was torrid and strictly carnal in nature, meant for the single purpose of debasing himself and his virtue in hopes of Kurt rescinding his betrothal. He had certainly met alphas and betas who were attractive and even good conversationalists, but they could never make him act so timorous as this. 

“Oh, it’s just a… thing I say sometimes. I’d like to think we could be friends. I don’t see why not, do you?” 

Charles could feel Max staring at him, but he did not look his way. After a few moments, the other man spoke. 

“No, no, I suppose not.” 

Charles kept his gaze away, the two reverting to quietly sipping their tea before he felt moved to break the silence once more. 

“Since we are friends now—” 

“Looking to beg favors of me already?” Max asked, his tone hedging on teasing. 

Charles let a small smile free. 

“Not a favor, just a question.” 

Max nodded his assent. 

“When I first arrived, you seemed rather… displeased with my presence. Why?” 

Max stayed silent so long Charles thought he wasn’t going to answer him but eventually, he spoke. 

“You did nothing. I just… I’m not a very sociable person. I haven’t been ever since my sister. I’ve always been quieter, less prone to friendly conversation. Ruth was the one who picked up the slack, made my ofttimes unapproachable demeanor appear not so aggressive. I don’t all the time realize that I’m being unfriendly. I’ll make an effort to be more affable in future.” 

“You need not switch your personality for me.” 

“But I do.” 

Charles felt heat rise to his cheeks again. 

“I haven’t been accommodating at all. I am as much a guest in Logan’s home as you are, I should be courteous towards you. I’ve behaved in a manner most unbecoming and I apologize.” 

Charles bit his lip as the other man’s words sunk in. They sounded sincere. 

“There is nothing to forgive, but if you must hear it, I forgive you.” 

Max nodded in reply. Charles could still feel the man’s smoldering eyes on him. It felt heavy and tantalizing. He wanted to meet his gaze but wasn’t sure what he would find. He wasn’t sure he was ready to know. He took a deep breath before standing. 

“I’d better get to bed. David is an early bird. I need the rest before he wakes me.” 

“Of course. I’ll wash the mugs, you can leave.” 

Charles attempted to protest but Max waved him off. 

“It’s just a mug. I can handle it.” 

“If you’re sure.” 

“I am.” 

“Alright then.” 

Charles walked to the doorway of the kitchen and paused to say good night before continuing on. 

He was entirely unsure of these recent developments with Max. He didn’t know if it was a good thing or bad. Still, it was better to make as many friends as he could. 

_We will be friends and that is all,_ Charles promised himself. 


	5. A Short Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik reflects on his new-found bond with Charles.

Erik would not say that he ever had the best skills when it came to forging friendships. He could make alliances, could foster peace between Genosha and her allies, but true friendships were another matter. Ruth was his sister. Magda had been the one to initiate their relationship. Ruth facilitated his friendship with Azazel. He enjoyed Logan’s company, but he didn’t know if either of them would say they were friends. Other than that, there were people in Erik’s life who he saw as trusted acquaintances or loyal advisors, but he would not say that he counted them as friends. Charles was proving to be an exception. 

With Erik patiently awaiting his knights’ returns from their respective missions, he stayed at the inn for the better part of his days now. Logan frequently left for work, so it was just Erik, Charles, and the children in the inn during the day. After their truce of sorts, Charles had taken to seeking out Erik’s company. They would talk, debate really, their taste in books, philosophy, poetry, religion, politics, and just about anything they could think of. They agreed more than they disagreed, but when they did disagree, the resulting discourse was invigorating. As an alpha prince, there weren’t many people who directly challenged Erik so boldly. However, to Charles, he was just a blacksmith and his status as an alpha did not seem to cow him. Erik enjoyed the lack of formality. They usually argued to a stalemate or until Anya saw fit to mediate (or take sides to stir them up again since she thought it was great entertainment to watch their spars). 

Despite any assumptions he could’ve made about Charles’ nature considering the disgrace he arrived in, it was clear that Charles was a studious person, learned, and naturally curious. He took to exploring the surroundings of Logan’s inn, often dragging the children and Erik along. They had discovered a river and a lake within the woods along with several meadows and clearings playing host to wildlife. Charles always appeared suitably awed by the natural majesty of Genosha. Flowers any other Genoshan would consider weeds, trees deemed far from impressive, and animals otherwise thought to be pests were like gateways to a world of bountiful knowledge for the younger man. Charles could spend an inordinate amount of time observing and cataloging in his personal journal before staying up entirely too late reading tomes about Genosha’s history, geography, fauna, and flora. In the short time Charles had been at the inn, Erik thought the omega already consumed about half of the information he had to learn over the span of years as the prince. 

He was sure that Charles was an academic or a noble of some sort. Other than his elevated speech pattern, his opinions and ideas spoke to a deeper understanding of diplomacy despite his proclamation that he was not overly fond of politics. Erik found that he agreed with many of Charles’ stances in those regards. He had progressive thoughts about the structure of society, a belief in imbuing as much equitability as possible across class and status distinctions, which Erik agreed with wholeheartedly. In many ways, he was a man after Erik’s own heart. If he ever married again, not that there was a need, he would want the man or woman to be like Charles. 

Charles was a great help with the children too. Erik would be the first to admit that his children were handfuls. He had an army of governesses to help him back at Krakoa, but now he was on his own dealing with Wanda’s fragile state after all she’d seen in the battle, Anya’s tenacity and bids for independence and Pietro’s propensity for mischief. Even with the metal accessories they always wore, they were hard to keep track of sometimes. Wanda chose to hide all over the inn, Anya tried to break away to explore on her own, and Pietro was always looking for trouble, but they all liked Charles so they would listen to him (a small miracle) and David proved an ever-present (if sometimes unwilling) distraction.

Charles made up games that occupied the three youngest children’s times, helped them learn to read and taught them simple things about animals and arithmetic. If Erik tried to educate them, he was certain he would’ve gotten maybe five minutes of their time before they deemed him unworthy of their attention, but Charles was a patient teacher. He even channeled Pietro’s inclination towards disarray and chaos into something constructive by teaching him about science and doing experiments with him. 

Charles played the old piano stashed in the common room, sometimes teaching Anya chords, or tapping out jaunty tunes for Wanda, Pietro, and David’s benefit. Sometimes when Erik went to check on Wanda, Charles was already with her telling her stories to help her sleep and reassuring her of her safety. He and Anya remained close. She always managed to drop a few words about Charles in any conversation she and Erik had lately. He wasn’t sure to what end but was convinced his stubborn daughter had an agenda. Erik’s children were content despite the horrors they’d been through, so he could hope for nothing more, whether Charles was the reason or not. 

As for them, Charles and Erik took to quiet moments over tea and chess. Charles was a formidable opponent. He claimed he was out of practice, but he improved the more they played. He was not an aggressive player, but he was smart. There wasn’t a lot of room for hidden agendas in chess, it was a matter of being able to anticipate every possible move your opponent could make. Charles always seemed to be intuned with what Erik was going to do, even if he couldn’t always defend against his strategy. He found these long sessions with Charles to be surprisingly rewarding and a test of his endurance. 

It was disconcertingly attractive watching Charles’ mind work. The way he bit his red lips. The crease that formed on his brow. The way he ran his fingers absentmindedly against his temple in a gesture he swore helped him concentrate, not to use his telepathy to cheat. Silhouetted by the light of the fire in the common room, he cut an enticing figure. Erik had to exhibit near-boundless restraint. He was almost certain Charles was attracted to him as well. There was something in the way he looked at him sometimes. However, they had done nothing more than trade occasionally flirty banter. 

Erik constantly reminded himself that Charles had no clue who he really was. He didn’t even know his real name. Vice versa, Erik didn’t know much about Charles, not his past anyway. He was confident he could write sonnets to the little things he knew: how Charles liked his tea, the way he blushed when he said something too familiar, the smile that alighted his lips when he and Anya were deep in spirited discussions, the parental protectiveness he displayed when Wanda woke from a nightmare or Pietro edged too close to the water during their excursions, the pride and happiness he exuded when David used his powers in a new way, his ineptitude to make food even halfway edible, his affinity for the colors yellow and blue, his love of romance novels but aversion to amorous ballads and saccharine verses, the way his laughter always seemed like it was startled out of him, the way his eyes lit up in both pleasure and exasperation when Erik bested him at chess or there was an argument that Erik made that he had no rebuttal for, and… 

Well, Erik knew a lot about Charles, but he still didn’t know vital information about where he came from, what he was running from, and where he was planning to go. He had overheard some snatches of conversation between Charles and Logan. He knew Charles had fled from mortal danger, but that was expected information. Either way, Erik had never asked for clarification. It was unfair of him to press when he had his own secrets. So, they’d fallen into this comfortable, easy friendship, ignoring their biological instincts and mutual attractions to instead bask in the other’s company for what it was. 

Erik stood leaning against a wall leading to the common area. Charles was sat in the room on the floor with the children. He was reading a book to them, well, he was reading to Anya since David was asleep across his lap while Pietro and Wanda had dozed off on the various pillows and blankets decorating the floor. Charles had decided to move all the children to the common area in a final attempt to soothe Wanda’s nightly fears and convince her of their safety. Erik saw no reason to stop him. Charles was reading _Jane Eyre_. Erik might’ve stopped him if he didn’t know Anya had already read this book and others with much more mature content given her literary appetite.

“While he spoke my very conscience and reason turned traitors against me and charged me with crime in resisting him. They spoke almost as loud as feeling and that clamoured wildly. “Oh comply!”, it said. “Think of his misery, think of his danger— look at his state when left alone, remember his headlong nature, consider the recklessness following on despair, do your duty as an omega— soothe him, save him, love him, tell him you love him and will be his. Who in the world cares for you? Or who will be injured by what you do?” Charles read.

“This next part is probably my favorite in the entire novel,” he prefaced before continuing,

“I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself. I will keep the law given by God, sanctioned by man. You are a bonded alpha, married to your mate, and I shall not intrude upon this sacred thing. I will hold to the principles received by me when I was sane, and not mad— as I am now. Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation, they are for such moments as this, when body and soul, rise in mutiny against their rigour, stringent are they, inviolate they shall be. If at my individual convenience I might break them, what would be their worth? They have a worth— so I have always believed, and if I cannot believe it now, it is because I am insane— quite insane, with my veins running fire and my heart beating faster than I can count its throbs. It is the hot madness they say afflicts omegas, that and that alone. Preconceived opinions, forgone determinations, are all I have at this hour to stand by. There I plant my foot.”

Erik chuckled lightly as Charles read the lines theatrically and with gusto, smiling with satisfaction to himself as he did so.

“Wonderful notion, isn’t it? I suppose it appeals to me so much because I am an omega and not many novels would ever have an omega speak so bluntly to an alpha.”

“But I never liked that Jane and Mr. Rochester ended up together, Charles. Why should they have?”

“It doesn’t follow on the surface, does it? The heart can be quite unpredictable, it doesn’t always want what is most convenient or easy. Jane did wait to pursue Rochester until she was sure she wasn’t influenced by her own poverty, loneliness, vulnerability, or passion in the moment. The distance and time let her know it was real. Love isn’t always flawless, it doesn’t have to be. I think the lesson here is more about the balance of power in a relationship, being equal with your partner regardless of distinction, having the respect of your mate, and not compromising yourself to assuage the needs of someone else. Love does require compromise, but there is a line between sacrificing bits of yourself for someone you love and losing yourself altogether. In the end, Jane got what she wanted because she remained true to herself but also opened her mind to learning and growing as a person. Rochester remained a flawed individual, but Jane saw him for who he truly was. Yes, he had his pride and his anger. He was a solitary man, but he managed to allow her past his walls. He told severe lies that he saw as necessary as he tried to find a bit of happiness for himself in the world. He was not perfect, but he was suited to her, so they worked through their differences. Sometimes it is possible, sometimes it is not, but the novel does not set unrealistic expectations of our omega protagonist. For this reason, I have always gravitated towards Miss Brontë’s work ever since its publication. I couldn’t help but fancy myself Jane in a few rather elaborate fantasies, forever seeking my Rochester, the one who would accept that as an omega, I need not fit into the roles set for me by society. Though, of course, I’d rather spare myself the life-altering secret.”

Erik felt a pang in his chest. He wasn’t entirely sure why.

“He’s good at that, huh?” 

Erik startled and turned to see Logan standing there looking at him with amusement.

“Did I scare you?” he asked, but he didn’t look apologetic. 

Erik rolled his eyes at him and turned back to Charles and Anya, who were still discussing Jane and Mr. Rochester’s relationship.

“You’re not very subtle, you know.”

Erik glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. Logan nodded towards Charles.

“What about him?”

Logan leveled him with an unamused look.

“I’m not an idiot, bub. I see the way you’re looking at him.”

“And how is that?”

“Like you’re going to jump him without a moment’s notice.”

Erik rolled his eyes once more in response.

“I do have more self-restraint than that.”

“Be sure you do. Kid’s been through enough. He’s my godson, I mean to protect him. I don’t want him getting caught up in all of this with Shaw. I’m soon to leave to see about getting you some more help for this fight. I don’t want to come back and have to kill you for messing with him. That’ll defeat the whole point of scrounging up help for you in the first place.”

Erik ignored the blatantly treasonous threat.

“Charles is a friend, Logan. Just a friend. We play chess, talk about politics, my children like him, his son likes me, and we like each other. That’s all it is.”

Logan held his gaze for a long moment.

“We’ll see.”

The gruff man walked off. Erik watched him go, unsure of the portentous feeling the words left him with. He shook it off. Logan was just being overprotective. Erik would be the same if it were himself and his children, or Ruth for that matter. A sudden wave of turmoil swept through him before he could hold it back. He had been trying to hide from these emotions. Charles made it easy to do so, but when they came again they could be so overpowering. It was almost as if he could taste the grief on his tongue, could smell it. It reeked of ozone, leather, pipe smoke and tar. Shaw’s scent.

“Max?”

He looked up to see Charles staring up at him questioningly. Anya was giving him an assessing look as well. She came to some conclusion he was not privy to as she looked down and away with pursed lips and a dimmer light in her eyes.

“You’re projecting,” Charles explained to Erik’s questioning look, a soothing hand running down David’s back as the sleeping boy fussed in agitation.

Erik shut his eyes and willed the emotions away, knowing that they were not pleasant for the two telepaths to endure.

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”

“I don’t mean to run you out. You can join us. We’d prefer it actually, right Anya?”

Erik somehow doubted that, but Anya wordlessly moved over to make space for him between herself and Charles. He hesitated but walked over and sat beside the omega, their thighs pressing against one another’s in the process.

“Please, continue regaling us with the stylings of Miss Brontë.”

Charles gave him a sweet smile before diving back into the passages. Erik studiously ignored the tugging it inspired in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter dialogue-light chapter allowing us to get into Erik’s head regarding his and Charles’ progressing relationship. The next chapter will be a lot longer.


	6. A Wedding in the Square

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding leads to an unexpected result.

Charles walked down the lane from Logan’s inn towards the village. Wanda was by his right side holding his hand while Anya walked along his left. Pietro ran around in front of them, excitedly exclaiming. 

“We’re going to a wedding, we’re going to a wedding,” he repeated over and over in a sing-song voice. 

Charles glanced a few feet behind him at Max with amusement on his face. The man gave him a look of misery as he trotted along with David sitting on his shoulders. Pietro had been going since they left the inn ten minutes prior, more rambunctious than usual after they informed him of the event they were attending. Charles had to bite his lip to stifle a laugh, but if Max’s resulting glare was any indication, he knew Charles was enjoying his annoyance. 

In truth, Charles was excited too. The group was on their way to the village to join a wedding celebration in the village square. All were invited. Charles, being the naturally curious person he was, had to go despite Max’s reluctance. He had never been to such a celebration. As a nobleman, he had no cause to go to the weddings or celebrations of the lower class. Growing up in a mostly Protestant country, he had no idea about Jewish wedding customs. He was not a devout person, but he was happy to have new experiences in Genosha. The longer he stayed in this country, the more he felt glad to reside in it. He had not felt this comfortable in a place in a long while. Then again, maybe that also had to do with the company.

The Eisenhardts had proven to be welcome additions in Charles’ life. The twins and Anya were perfectly lovely. It was splendid to watch David playing with his newfound friends like he never had the opportunity to do before and Max was a more than pleasing companion. Charles was happy to call him a friend. He sometimes wished he could call him more, but his past was so sordid, and Max seemed so put-together. Charles did not want him to get involved with his mess. If the Markos ever found him, Max and his children would be in danger. Charles had come to hold the Eisenhardts in high regard very quickly. Logan was dubious with his interest in the family, cautioning Charles before his trip not to fall in too deeply with them. Charles saw the merit in the advice, but Logan had left him alone with them. What was Charles to do? Ignore their existence? 

Max was not an easy man to ignore. Charles was starting to think there might be no one on this earth whom he could regard as fondly as the blacksmith. Max was intelligent, cunning, and more amenable than he allowed others to think. He was opinionated, but he always presented valid arguments to support his opinions and Charles enjoyed their little spars. He was a caring father, always willing to bend for his children’s needs. David even liked him. 

His son was quiet by nature and not prone to like new people, probably learned behavior from his time in Salem. He was lukewarm with Logan on the best of days. Tony had not been able to win him over either and even Pepper found herself unable to garner his affection. If Charles went into the village with David, he caught him telepathically turning people’s attention away from him so he did not have to suffer the cooing and fussing small children often inspired. In contrast, he allowed Max to hold him and rock him to sleep. He followed the alpha around as they explored the surrounding areas of the inn and went to him for help crossing the waters or picking berries and fruits from the bushes and trees. Max never complained, never appeared to be annoyed even when David got his shirts dirty with berry juice, or used his telepathy to project his thoughts instead of speaking, or had to be forcibly removed from Max’s head because David felt comfortable there. 

Charles was not blind to the deeper emotions swirling through Max’s head. Sometimes Charles could not help but be bowled over by unexpected waves of negative sentiment from Max. Usually, a mixture of anger and grief. Charles did not begrudge him this. He had extrapolated from their conversation that Max’s sister was likely murdered. Max was still processing this loss. It was fresh and painful for him, Charles could tell just from the small psionic tidal waves that crashed over him. It bothered David sometimes when Max sunk into these dour moods. Charles did what he could to shield him from it. He did not ask Max about it but once. Max had lashed out at him in anger and Charles walked away, frightened. The alpha later apologized and Charles forgave him, but never asked again. Perhaps that was why Logan warned him to keep his distance, but Charles had more command of his powers and David’s than his godfather gave him credit for. He could protect them against those low points in Max’s moods. They never lasted long anyway. No, Charles could not imagine Max in a bad light at all despite Logan’s caution. 

“Are we going to get to eat food, Daddy?” Pietro asked, still bouncing around. 

“I’d imagine so.” 

“Will there be a lot of boring stuff before?” 

“Weddings aren’t boring, Pietro. They mean something important. They are a symbol of two people coming together, under the sight of HaShem, to live their lives for and with one another. I’ve heard this marriage is a love match. It’s a celebration of mateship,” Anya retorted. 

“ _Boring_ ,” the boy stressed. 

Charles let out a laugh and glanced back at Max again to see his lip quirked with mirth. 

“Are there many weddings in Genosha, Max?” Charles asked. 

In Westchester, weddings among the noble class were mandatory. It was usually more of a business arrangement than it was a love match, but among the lower classes, weddings were often extravagances that could not be afforded.

“They range in size, but yes, weddings are important ceremonies in our religion. A bite and appropriate consummation are more binding than a ketubah is, but it is still important to our culture.”

“What exactly is going to happen at this wedding?” 

“Well, we will probably get there in time for the sheva b’rachot and the second cup of wine.” 

“Sheva b’rachot?” 

Max snorted at his pronunciation. Charles shot him a glare to cover up his embarrassment. 

“The seven blessings. The village rabbi will recite it and then the blessing over wine to the couple, further binding them in full commitment to marriage. They will break the glass and we will sing the Siman Tov u’Mazel Tov. There’ll be something of a recessional called the yichud. The couple will take a moment, 10 to 20 minutes, of privacy away from the guests before returning for the banquet. Food will be served—”

“Food!” Pietro exclaimed, cutting through the explanation. 

“The grace after meals and then dancing. There are a few special dances for the family, but the dancefloor will be open to everyone.” 

Charles nodded, absorbing all the information given to him. Max let a small chuckle escape his lips. 

“It’s a wedding, Charles. No need to tackle it as if it were a science experiment.” 

“I just want to be respectful. Granted, I am not exactly the most pious man or devout Christian who ever lived, but I don’t want to look like an inept fool in front of everyone or ruin the wedding somehow.”

He bit his lip, worrying about how this would go. He was surprised to have even been invited at all, given everyone in the village was invited. The Danes and Hallers were obviously over-the-moon with the match, more so than Charles was expecting, and wanted to make their daughters’ marriage as big of a well-to-do as possible. Charles had thought that kind of thing reserved for the aristocracy, but apparently not.

He looked beside him as Max stepped up to walk next to the trio.

“You’ll be fine. Just be yourself and no one will have a problem. If they do, I’ll be there.”

Charles looked over at the taller man and let a soft smile of gratitude alight his face. They came upon the village, the setting sun illuminating the empty streets. Max stepped up and led the group forward until they turned the corner to the square. There, a group of hundreds was sat around the square, some at tables and others on benches or blankets on the floor. In the center of the square stood a couple under a cloth canopy along with who Charles assumed was the rabbi and several others who must’ve been family members of the brides. Max led them to a stone bench on the outskirts of the crowd, sitting with David in his lap. Charles captured Pietro before he could run off anywhere and placed him between the two men, allowing Wanda to crawl on his lap, careful of his sore ribs, while Anya placed herself neatly on the bench beside him. Pietro grumbled but didn’t move to flee after Charles began running his fingers through his shock of white hair. He zeroed in on the ceremony, trying to listen to the words said with fascination. 

“We all stand here today before your fellow villagers celebrating the gift Adonai, our god, has seen fit to bestow upon you. The gift of a true bond.” 

Charles’ eyebrows shot up. He glanced at Max. His brows were furrowed. So this was not a traditional part of the ceremonies then. 

True bonds were a tricky concept. A true bond was one that was viewed as predestined mateship. A true bond presented itself at meeting, binding the two long before a claiming. Westchesterian culture was steeped in tales of fair maidens locking eyes and falling in love instantly, princes falling for paupers over a dance, or soldiers on opposite sides of wars finding each other on the battlefield. All the nobles at court aspired to it as if it were something that was not a natural occurrence but could be bought or earned. They threw the terminology around loosely. “My one true mate” was a common endearment. Charles was claimed as quite a few lords’ true mates after a roll in the sheets. It was hardly sacred in his homeland. As for Charles’ stance, he never had much of an opinion. As a telepath, he could feel when love between a pair was true and that was always of significance to him over whether those two people were soulmates through cosmic design. He wondered what the school of thought was here in Genosha. These villagers seemed happy to indulge in it. 

He zoned his telepathy towards the couple and was almost thrown by the tremendous amount of love coming from the two women. 

“Are you alright?” Erik asked beside him as Wanda looked up at him warily.

“Yes, yes, just...” Charles trailed off, gesturing towards his head meaningfully.

“Is it too much? We can leave. I should’ve thought of the number of people.”

Max looked down at David worriedly, but the toddler sat perfectly relaxed in his lap, playing with a couple of Max’s fingers.

“Don’t worry, I’m filtering everything for him. And I’m fine,” Charles assured him before he locked back on to the rabbi’s words. 

“As HaShem made the sun and the moon, so too did he make these two souls, brought together by His holy guiding light. As sacred as the bond between child and parent, forged through the blessing of HaShem, so too is the true bond between these two, His faithful servants. Gabrielle Haller and Suzanne Dane, I now bless you with the traditional seven blessings.” 

Charles did not understand the prayers as they were said in Hebrew, but still felt the gravity of the words. Eventually, a large goblet was brought forward as the two brides both held cups of wine. They began to pour their cups into the larger goblet until their individual mugs were empty. 

“This goblet of wine is symbolic of the cup of life. As you share this cup of wine, you undertake to share all the future may bring. Happy is the bride and bride who find love in marriage. Happy are they that receive and gladden in this bond sanctified by Him who fashioned the alpha, beta, and omega in His image, according to His likeness and has fashioned from these distinctions the rare and holy gift of the true bond, just as he bestowed this gift upon His creatures in the garden of Eden. May you find life’s joys doubly gladdened, its bitterness sweetened, and all things hallowed by true bondage and love as Elohim has willed it.” 

The two drank from the cup, their eyes never leaving one another. Charles let the smallest tendril of his telepathy flow towards the couple. Again, the depth of love was almost overwhelming. It was so vast he could hardly grasp the shape of it. He had never felt anything like this before. It was beautiful, it was radiant. It felt warm and safe. He wanted to cloak himself in it. He was broken sharply from the haze of the residual emotion when the sound of breaking glass and then a chorus of singing crashed into him. He startled again, garnering the attention of his companions. 

“Don’t cry, Charles. It’s just glass. We’re safe,” Wanda reassured him, clutching on to his arm as if to impress the veracity of her statement into him. 

Charles reached up, surprised at the tears falling down his face.

“We are, dear. Thank you,” Charles replied, patting her forehead to assuage her worry.

He glanced at Max, embarrassed about the tableau he was creating. 

“My sister always cried at weddings too,” he commented, giving him a kind look as he reached out to brush his thumbs softly over the droplets on his cheeks. He stayed perfectly still as Max cleaned his face, ignoring the singing around him and the children on top of them and beside them and the couple exiting the square as the rabbi gave orders about where to go for the banquet. He let out a breath when Max finished. 

“Alright?” the alpha asked. 

“Yes. They are just very much in love. I’ve never felt anything like it. It was a bit overwhelming. Most weddings I’ve attended haven’t been under the same circumstances.”

The last wedding Charles remembered was Raven’s. He had sat in his chair, barely aware of his surroundings with Cain’s heavy hand on his knee as Kurt walked Raven down the aisle and married her off to Lord Wagner, a man who was forty years her senior. If Charles had had access to his telepathy, he was certain he would have found no love there. Raven was angry and full of hate for her circumstances while Lord Wagner was indifferent and apathetic towards his new young bride.

In comparison, Gabrielle and Suzanne’s love was staggering, like a living thing that existed symbiotically through their union.

“They are a true bond, didn’t you hear?” Max commented sarcastically. 

Charles gave him a curious look. 

“It’s not real, of course.” 

Anya gave a protesting squawk as they got up to move with the crowd towards where the food was, Pietro practically vibrating between them at the notion. Honestly, one would think the boy was starved.

“I’m surprised they weren’t met with more skepticism and scorn. The last couple I heard of in Genosha to claim to have a true bond were two betas, already married, who claimed their infidelity was a result of a true bond. They were both still found guilty of adultery and punished. I supposed these women managed to get the rabbi to believe them somehow. The only way in Genosha to have a true bond documented is if a rabbi recognizes it, or a shaman if they are among the native tribes of Genosha’s plains, though they are usually secretive about such things.” 

“What would be the purpose of them lying? Perhaps they do have a true bond. Stranger things have happened. It’s a bit romantic, isn’t it? Two people made for one another,” Charles mused as they continued forward.

“It’s a fantasy.”

“Doesn’t make it less romantic, does it? It certainly would make things easier if everyone had a soulmate. Then you wouldn’t have to bother with the whole mess of courtships and the like.”

“I suppose,” Max shrugged as they turned into the designated banquet area. 

Charles started to feel a little self-conscious about it. He was not some grand romantic, nor did he have some unshakable belief in the existence of true bonds, so what was he defending these women for?

“What do I know? I’ve never even been in love. I’m hardly an expert on what a true bond is, let alone what constitutes romance, not beyond the pages of a novel.”

“What? Never? I simply cannot believe that.”

Charles looked up at him curiously.

“You’re so…” Max trailed off, looking away. 

If Charles were crazy, he’d say the man’s tanned cheek appeared redder as if he were blushing. That was foolish though. Max was never flustered. He was always cool and collected unlike Charles. He envied the man in that.

“But you’re great, Charles. Anyone would be lucky to have you,” Anya added next to him, picking up her father’s slack. 

He shot the girl a grateful smile.

“It’s not that, is it? Just because someone wants you doesn’t mean you have to want them. And don’t feel obligated to do so, even if they claim to love you to the moon and back. People say things like that all the time and never really know what it means. Remember that.”

Anya nodded thoughtfully at the sage advice. He glanced over at Max to see if he had overstepped, but the man was just staring at him contemplatively. Charles wondered what he was thinking. Before he could ask, he was cut off by an exclamation from Wanda. 

“Emma!”

The little girl ran from his side towards a beautiful blonde alpha in the congregation. Charles watched curiously as Pietro and Anya also went to greet the woman. He glanced up at Max, wondering who she was. He had a blank expression on his face, but there was a tightness around his eyes that told Charles he wasn’t especially pleased with this development. The woman approached them along with the children, looking between Charles and Max with an assessing look.

“Max,” she said in a polite and formal voice.

“Emma.”

The two stared at one another quietly for a moment, unspoken tension between them. Charles glanced between them curiously. She was not an unattractive woman. Quite the opposite. Her blonde hair was held back from her face in a severe bun, allowing her flattering face to take center stage. She had a pleasant scent about her: freshly fallen snow, elderflower, and maple. Sweet but not sickeningly so. She was the type whose acquaintance he would have liked to make in his bedchamber in his past life. The alpha woman suddenly looked over at him.

“Hello,” she greeted, her voice chilly but not totally unfriendly. 

“Emma Frost, I’m an old associate of Max’s. You are?”

“Charles. My son and I are lodging with my godfather along with the Eisenhardts.”

“Logan is your godfather?”

“He is.”

“Hmm. And have you been here long?”

“Not very. A little over a month. And yourself?”

“The same. I haven’t seen you in town much. 

“I have been in town on occasion.”

“I’m sure I would’ve remembered your face.”

Despite the flirtatious implication he could have read into her words, her tone made him distinctly aware that she was not looking upon him with the amorous inclination of an alpha to an omega. She was looking him up and down, regarding him as prey, but not of the carnal sense. Charles was thrown at the subtle hostility but elected to act civilly for Max’s sake.

“Your words credit me, but I’m not certain my face is so memorable as all that.”

“Well, I try to keep track of Max’s friends, so I think I would’ve remembered you after all. Especially given you found each other at such a fortuitous time in your life.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You are recently divorced, are you not? I hear many omegas seek another alpha after such a thing posthaste. Now here you are. You and Max together.”

Charles reared back, shocked at her words. He wasn’t sure if it was the boldness of her statements or how much he wished they were true that jarred him more. He was at a loss as to what to make of her tone and inquiries. He wondered if perhaps this was jealousy. Perhaps Max was like Logan and preferred the company of alphas. Charles would think that was something Max would have shared with him by now, but maybe he had reason to be cautious. There were his children to think of. Before he could continue that train of thought, Max cut across them.

“Charles has become a friend to me in a short amount of time. He hardly needs me to defend his honor, but in the event he cannot do it himself, I am happy to assist if that is what you are implying,” Max replied in a hard tone. 

Ms. Frost regarded Charles for another long moment before switching her gaze back to Max.

“Of course. So chivalrous of you, Max.”

Charles narrowed his eyes at the woman as a sudden psionic nudge made itself known against his shields. He pushed it back in admonishment. Ms. Frost immediately looked back at him, her ice-blue eyes assessing him.

“You’re a telepath,” she stated.

“As are you. I tend to find it rude to peek without permission.”

“I tend to find peeking useful. Gives me an idea of who I’m dealing with.”

 _You’re about to find out,_ Charles thought uncharitably.

“Stay out of his head,” Max warned the woman, glaring at her. 

She held his gaze for a long moment, not an alpha challenging another alpha, but meaningfully still. Perhaps they were conversing telepathically. After a minute, Ms. Frost’s eyes scrunched together as if she were in pain before she jerked her head back, almost like she was slapped.

“I see your son is a telepath as well. So strong for one so young.”

Charles observed David, watched him settle further into Max’s arms and place his little fingers over the man’s temples possessively. Charles hid a smirk of amusement.

“I apologize. He’s got a jealous streak about him. He quite enjoys Max’s head. He won’t even let me anywhere near him once he’s settled inside.”

“Well, aren’t you all a regular happy family? And so soon too. Max, misanthrope that he is, is usually never so quickly… swayed by people, least of all telepaths. It took me a fashion to gain his trust, convince him I wouldn’t go snooping or changing anything.”

Charles caught the implication in her words, the insinuation that he was up to something nefarious or underhanded. Ms. Frost’s eyes continued to appraise him, judging him. He couldn’t help but raise his head in defiance. Was he to spend his entire life the target of baseless accusations because he managed to get away from the clutches of heathens like the Markos? Were his actions so much more offensive than those of Cain’s and Kurt’s that his integrity was to be questioned rather than theirs? Was his life so meaningless simply because of his distinction? 

“I’ve found my taste in telepaths to be as much of a moral decision as an aesthetic one, though I have no small appreciation for that either as you can see,” Max rejoined.

Charles looked up at him with a small smile, a slight burn on his cheeks at the subtle compliment and defense. 

“We have to find seats if we’re going to get food. It was nice to see you, Emma,” Anya said, cutting through the tense silence.

“And you, dear. Keep your siblings out of trouble,” the blonde said, shooting Charles and Max one more look before walking off.

“Old associate?” He asked Max once she left.

Max nodded quietly.

“Does she know that? She was quite… intense.”

“Emma is always intense. She doesn’t mean anything by it. She just doesn’t know how to interact with people like a normal human being. She doesn’t know how to play nice or make friends, and she can be overprotective to boot.”

“Sounds a bit familiar.”

Max shot him a playful glare and Charles smiled in response, ruffling David’s hair as he quietly observed the crowd around them.

Charles put the run in out of his mind and focused on the festivities. Overall, he would say the wedding banquet was something he was happy to experience. He was fascinated with the prayers and dances that he had to get Max to explain like the gladdening of the bride and the hora. Pietro got to gorge himself on food and cake. Charles would’ve been concerned about giving him sugar, but all the children seemed to have worked it off by dancing and running around with the other children. Even David danced with the other toddlers. Mostly just jumping and swinging their arms, but Charles had just about died from the swelling in his chest at his son’s happiness. 

By the time they were on their way home, Charles was buzzing with wine and excitement. The jovial scene had seeped into his very bones, his telepathic walls coming down and allowing all the high emotions in, making him a little dizzy from it all. They could still hear the music playing even as they reached the inn and laid the sleepy children down to rest. He couldn’t help but step back into the common area and fling open a window, allowing the cool night air to fill the room along with the sounds of the music in the village. 

He jumped as a succession of bangs could be heard in the distance before relaxing when the sky lit up with fireworks. A smile stretched across his lips at the light show. It had been a while since he got to witness something like this. He leaned his head against the window frame and watched, enraptured by the colorful combustions, so much so he didn’t notice anyone enter behind him.

“You know, I didn’t see you dance.” 

He startled and turned quickly to look at Max, clutching his chest in fright. 

“Heavens, you’re quiet when you want to be.”

The taller man smiled genially in reply, but Charles could detect the teasing edge to it. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t think you would’ve heard me over the fireworks at any rate.”

Charles conceded the point, turning back to the display of red and white lights.

“Everyone truly is happy for the brides, aren’t they? It’s amazing to watch everyone come together to celebrate someone else’s love. Gives me a bit more faith in humanity than I had before.”

“It was possible to shake your faith,” Max asked, moving to stand beside him. 

Charles glanced at him. Thus far, any information given about their pasts were slips-of-the-tongue or accidents. Max hadn’t pushed and Charles hadn’t either.

“Just… life doesn’t always turn out how you would hope,” he replied vaguely.

“No, it doesn’t. The last wedding I attended was my sister’s. That certainly didn’t turn out well.”

Charles felt the same emotions he had felt from Max before when he brought up his sister: the rage, the anger, the pain. It was such that the peace and happiness the wedding had cast over him slowly began leeching away. Charles didn’t want to lose it just yet, so he was quick to change the subject.

“What about you? Your marriage, I mean? What was it like?”

Max looked at him, a conflicted glint in his eye. Charles thought he wouldn’t answer, but eventually he did.

“Magda was my best friend. I had known her since childhood. Our mothers were friends, so we were often around one another. I was, to put it bluntly, no friendlier as a child. I ran away most trying to befriend me, but she persevered. It didn’t happen at once, our love, it grew over the course of years. She was there for me through some difficult times and I for her. In that, we began to feel strongly for one another. It wasn’t an easy courtship. Our relationship and subsequent marriage were contested.”

“Oh?”

“My father didn’t think our marriage was useful to our family. I didn’t care. I loved her, so I was not inclined to marry someone who would bring more money or status to the match. We had six years together before the twins were born. It was a difficult birth. She didn’t make it.”

Charles could feel pain coming from Max when he thought of this too, but it was a duller kind of hurt, one he had accepted, not the explosive kind that he felt with his sister.

“I’m sorry, my friend. If I could spare you the pain, I would.”

“I was happy with the time that I did spend with her. I wish she hadn’t gone, but I have our children. They are reminders of the happiness and love we shared. It was worth it. _She_ was worth it.”

There was a look of wistfulness and love on Max’s face that captured Charles’ heart, made it constrict sympathetically for the man’s loss and, disconcertingly enough, envy the woman who had inspired it. It was ridiculous, but he couldn’t entirely banish the notion.

“She was a lucky woman. I’m sure she knew every day that you loved her.”

Max snapped from his reverie and gave Charles his attention once more. He looked a little hesitant to speak.

“What is it?”

“You said you were never in love earlier, but you were married. I don’t mean to pry, but was there ever a moment? A moment where love was at all possible for you?”

Charles’ head tilted in curiosity.

“Why?”

Max looked away from him and up at the now dim sky.

“From what I’ve come to know of you, it seems a crying shame that you would never know what love feels like, the joy it can elicit, the safety one might find in it, the fulfillment.”

Charles thought of every moment he spent with his lovers over the years, discounting Cain entirely for there was nothing to salvage there. There had been lovers who seemed more genuine than others, who had an interest in Charles not just for his body but also for his mind, but Charles could not say he had ever felt a stirring in his heart for them beyond that of friendship. There had never been a time when he had longed for someone even as they stood right in front of him. When his head was full of fantasies, not just of their coupling, but of blissful domesticity. When his heart felt as if it would beat out of his chest so it could make a new home inside his partner’s. When he felt an almost physical pull to remain close to them. When he had wanted them so instantly and so completely, not until Max.

“No, my friend. I’m afraid there was never a moment,” Charles answered softly, unwilling to admit what was in his heart at this juncture. He was not ready to be that vulnerable.

“Then I must tell you that my heart weeps for you, for there are few I can think of who deserve to have felt it more than you.”

Charles looked up at Max from beneath his eyelashes, wondering if the man meant that in the way he hoped he did or if he was just being friendly.

“You didn’t dance tonight,” Max commented suddenly.

Charles blinked at the hard turn in the conversation.

“I… no, I didn’t. I didn’t know how to. Not those kinds of dances anyway. The weddings I’ve attended have leaned towards formality more than joviality.”

“It’s a shame to attend a wedding and not dance.”

“Are you offering?” Charles retorted with a teasing smile. It wobbled when Max held out his hand without hesitation. 

“Seriously?” 

“Why not?” 

“What if I step on your toes?” 

“I’ll survive, I think,” Max shot back, looking Charles up and down. He blushed at the inspection but accepted the hand held out to him. 

Max pulled him close but left a space between them as he placed a hand on Charles’ waist and began leading him in a simple box step. He had only just now noticed the music that was playing was slower. It was a romantic, atmospheric sort of ballad. Charles wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. Instead, he allowed Max to lead him around the room, their bodies getting closer and closer together as they went along. 

Somehow, Charles ended up with his head against Max’s shoulder as they spun. His head was dizzy and light while the room felt hotter than when he first entered it. Max’s scent invaded his nose and he couldn’t smell anything, couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t want anything besides the other man. 

The music stopped, but they continued dancing to a tune of their own making. Eventually, they simply swayed, their dance turning into something of a hug before Charles pulled back and looked up into Max’s green eyes. There was no space between them any longer, their chests pulled flush, their hips needing only to move forward the barest amount for Charles to feel Max’s length against his stomach. He wanted so much to close that small distance, to touch the other man in his most intimate places and feel his touch in return. Max’s eyes looked heavily lidded and darker than normal. His face was flushed and the grip he had on Charles’ waist was tight. It struck Charles that Max was aroused by him. He felt a swell of pride but also a spike of longing. 

“Max?” He said, his tongue feeling a little heavy from drink and this heady feeling that had slammed into him.

Max stared down at him. Charles could swear he saw his gaze upon his lips for a moment, but he didn’t make a move. Charles moved his hands tentatively from the man’s shoulders to meet around his neck. Max didn’t stop him. He leaned up on his toes and pressed a light kiss to the other’s lips, fearing he would pull away. Max stayed still for a while before he began kissing Charles back. 

It was slow at first, hesitant, neither entirely sure of the other, until Charles grew more confident and moved to deepen the kiss. Max seemed to come alive then, one of his hands wrapping around Charles’ waist to pull their bodies flush and the other tangling in his hair. Charles groaned into the kiss, pulling Max closer. There was a surge of heat leeching from his stomach out to his extremities, pooling in his chest as their lips continued to move against one another’s.

Max pulled away and Charles moved to chase his lips, but the alpha began kissing down his chin towards his neck. He could feel him inhaling his scent before pressing open-mouthed kisses to the stretch of skin. He sucked a bit of Charles’ flesh into his mouth, sending another flush of arousal through the omega. He clutched his shoulders, his fingernails digging into them through his shirt.

“Max,” he moaned.

The other man suddenly stiffened and pulled away, looking down at Charles with an indecipherable expression. 

“Max?” Charles asked with confusion.

The alpha closed his eyes and took a deep breath before extracting himself from Charles entirely. An embarrassing whine of protest left Charles at the action. Max swayed towards him as if the sound beckoned him forward, but then he took a decisive step back. 

“We should get some sleep, shake off the wine, clear our heads. I’ll see you in the morning,” he proclaimed, quickly retreating from the room before Charles could protest. 

He watched Max go with a heavy heart, falling back against the window. He felt his heart clench, but it was not the same as every other time he had been around Max. This time, there was an edge of pain, a sting from rejection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not Jewish. Anything here is the result of research, so if anything is wrong please do tell me. I especially would like to know if the use of "HaShem" instead of "God" is out-of-place.


	7. A Reason to Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik struggles with his feelings as the unspoken rift between himself and Anya comes to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t said it yet, but I really want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read, review, bookmark, etc. It really gives me more motivation to complete this story and I am glad you guys are enjoying it so far.

Erik was a fool. No, he was the biggest damned fool who ever lived. Charles’ presence was something of an intoxicant, it had to be, because he could not think straight around the omega. He inspired such longing inside Erik. He could only compare it to his teenage days sneaking around with Magda, counting down the minutes until they could steal a moment alone. This was different. There was a demanding undercurrent that he had never experienced before, like there was a tether between himself and Charles that would not let him stay away.

After the wedding and the kiss, he tried to keep some distance between them, an idea Emma was entirely in favor of. He went into the village the next day to visit her. She looked up from her perch by the desk, a weathered novel in her hands and a look of nonchalance on her face.

“You know, as your knight, it is my duty to protect you. It is infinitely harder to do so when you are inviting new dangers into your life and not seeing fit to share such information with someone whose job it is to secure the safety of both yourself and your children.”

“Charles isn’t a danger. If he was, do you think I would allow him near my children?”

“As I said, you may not have a choice. He is a powerful telepath, more so than me. The only one I’ve met to come close would be Jean.”

Erik was a little surprised by that information. Charles didn’t bring his powers up in conversation much. Sometimes he would project things to Erik, but that was the extent of it. He had much more exposure to David’s powers. Regardless, he was certain Emma was wrong.

“Charles would not do something like that.”

“How would you know? You’ve known him, what? Two weeks?”

“I just know, alright?”

Emma stared at him with a carefully blank expression on her face, so much like her father’s, but her eyes were shrewd.

“I was wondering what you were doing to occupy your time away. I suppose I don’t have to wonder anymore. He’s an attractive omega, isn’t he?” She commented, going back to her reading.

“It isn’t like that,” he protested.

“Isn’t it?”

Erik suddenly thought of the kiss that they had shared. It had felt like his body was set aflame in no way he’d ever felt before. It was disconcerting and frightening at once. He had had to run away from Charles before he did something he’d regret.

Emma sighed across from him and gave him a searching look.

“We’ll be here a while yet until we secure the numbers necessary for this battle. If you’re keyed up, anxious, and looking to get that energy out of your system—” 

“I told you, it’s not like that.”

“I smelt him a little while back when he first came into town. Not many people with biological divorces around here, and he reeked of it. No surprise every door was closed in his face. Well, besides the brothel, of course. Then you two flounce into town together. People talk. They think it’s _like that_. And he gives you a certain look. If it’s not truly that way, you ought to tell him. Besides, don’t you have a possible fiancé out there right now.”

“It was not a binding promise with Sokovia.”

“Of course not,” she replied with a mocking smile.

“In all seriousness, are you sure your secrets are safe with him?”

“Charles won’t look without permission, unlike some.”

Emma shrugged, indifferent.

“Since you say you have no plans to lay claim on the omega, you wouldn’t mind if I press my luck then, would you? I do so enjoy the company of other telepaths. Such delicious bedroom applications.”

A warning growl left Erik before he could keep it in. Emma’s lips quirked into a knowing smirk.

“Looks like you need to counsel yourself on the nature of your relationship with Charles as well. We only have so much more time before we’re set to leave, my prince. Don’t do anything you can’t take back. Besides, my father would not be very pleased to hear about this little affair of yours. You know how conservative he is. As head of Genosha’s Council of Twelve, he will feel that any future dalliances you have, whether they be marriages or not, should go through him, especially since he couldn’t do anything about you and Magda. If this is just some sexual attraction, resolve it and move on. Anything more and you’re asking for trouble. I would know.”

Emma got a slightly far off look on her face. Erik was distinctly reminded of Lord Winston Frost’s thunderous rage when he learned of Emma’s short-lived affair with Scott Summers and how he had proceeded to facilitate a match between Scott and Lady Jean to put a stop to it. Emma had been as heartbroken as Erik imagined she could be. Scott moved on happily with Jean. The former lovers worked together on the Brotherhood with no issues, but Erik knew Emma still held a torch for the younger Summers. That was just the tip of the iceberg of what her father was capable of. He had tried to separate Erik and Magda by trying to foist them off to other suitors, tempt Magda away with promises of material things, threaten Erik’s political influence, and guilt him using his mother. It hardly mattered though. Charles was unlikely to ever encounter Emma’s father. Their relationship, whatever it was, had an expiration date. It always had.

Still, Erik took Emma’s words more to heart than he would admit to her. He did not want to string Charles along, but that kiss had awakened something profound inside of him that pushed him towards Charles. After two days, he could no longer maintain the distance and went to the younger man, practically begging for a game of chess. Charles allowed him back, took Erik’s defeat as an apology, and did not push for a conversation about what had happened. 

Charles had been in something of a state of euphoria that day. The wine mixed with the psionic effect of the brides’ happiness had made him giddy, almost as if he were high on life. His face glowed and his eyes shined with it, drawing Erik in, trapping him in the other man’s orbit. He was projecting happiness to the entire wedding banquet. Erik didn’t think Charles even noticed it, the way he was amplifying the good cheer and joy of the villagers. Erik only saw it because he had become accustomed to the feeling of telepathic influence over the years from his acquaintance with Emma, Elizabeth, and Jean. Erik was convinced Charles kissing him that day had more to do with his heightened emotional state than anything else. Erik felt guilty for taking advantage of it and had only managed to pull himself together once Charles uttered his false name.

He figured Charles would absolve him if he brought it up, so he didn’t. Instead, they carried on as they normally did, taking their regular excursions away from the inn and into the surrounding areas. They now sat in a meadow near Logan’s inn. Charles had the good fortune of arriving in Genosha just as spring was settling in. The flowers that were blooming were at their most fantastic and the meadow showcased that. Charles dragged everyone out of the inn along with a picnic basket and led the charge to the pasture. Erik, who had lived in Genosha his whole life, found the sights beautiful in a way that was more prideful of his homeland than it was appreciative of what nature could yield. The look on Charles’ face when they stepped into the sea of yellow, purple, red, pink, and orange flourishing and swaying gently in the breeze was not one Erik remembered having, even in youth. Charles was not just awed or impressed by the splendor before him, but respectful, damn near deferential. He had had a similar look on his face at the wedding after he used his telepathy to read the couple. It was as if he had just found the pinnacle of the sublime. Erik could no more help the pang of longing in his chest and stomach at the sight of Charles’ wonderment than he could help all the many barriers between them. Charles touched the flower petals reverently with the tip of his fingers, picked a few that had fully bloomed and gave one to each of the children and Erik before placing another in the picnic basket. Erik accepted the flower with a smirk but tucked it behind Charles’ ear, winking at the shorter man when he blushed before reminding himself that that was a foolish thing to do. 

They settled under a large magnolia tree, spread out on the blanket, making idle chatter and eating the fruits and cheese they brought. Erik probably stared too openly at Charles as he bit into a strawberry and a droplet of the juice escaped the corner of his lip, making a track down his chin, until Charles licked it away. Thankfully, the telepath didn’t seem to notice. After they ate, the children were allowed to play in the sun a few feet away. Erik watched the twins and David running away from Anya during their game of touch and go. He quirked a smile as he saw her deliberately slowing down to allow David to catch up with the taller twins before turning back to the magnolia tree. He had brought his bow and arrow along with him, intending to get as much practice as possible. He had fashioned the fully metal arrow himself from adamantium sent to the capital from Alkali City. He always brought it into battle with him. He preferred it even to his guns or sword. Even if he lost his bow, he would be able to summon his arrow, but the feeling of pulling the string back, the flex of the muscles in his back and his arms, were familiar and comforting.

He nocked his arrow and aimed for the misshapen doily that served as his target. Charles had been trying to get back into embroidery and stitchwork he said, but this offering hadn’t been the best showing so he gave it to Erik to do with as he pleased. He let the arrow fly just as Charles spoke, deftly correcting the course midair so it slammed into the center of the decorative mat.

“Did you know that Genosha’s Blue Ridge mountains have the distinction of being the only known habitat of the burgundy nine-tailed fox, which isn’t truly burgundy or nine-tailed for that matter,” Charles commented, his nose pressed in a book. 

Erik had taken to going into town and borrowing books from the small library for Charles. He was sure his appetite for knowledge rivaled a starving man’s for food. 

“What’s the point of the name then?” Erik asked, glancing behind him to where Charles was spread out on the blanket.

“There is evidence that this fox may have had nine tails once, mainly from the skeletal structure. When examined, one can see what looks like the beginnings of separate tails branching off from the primary tail. As for the burgundy, I suppose some poor sap had an issue regarding their perception of color. The fox is a deep red color but hardly burgundy.” 

Erik nodded along, not expressly interested, but he liked hearing Charles speak. He got so worked up and enthusiastic when he found new information. Erik turned back to the tree and summoned his arrow to himself. It flew into his hand and he nocked it once more. He drew back, took aim and let the arrow fly again, this time not correcting the course and letting gravity and his own skill drive the bolt into the center.

He turned around with amusement as Charles gave him a small clap.

“You are a wonderful marksman, my friend.”

“Would you like to try?” 

“Me?” Charles asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Why not? Unless your ribs will prevent you.”

“No, no. They are still sore at times but hardly a hindrance.”

“Good, then it won’t stop you from trying your hand.”

“I haven’t shot a bow and arrow since I was much younger. I’ll probably be rubbish.”

“You won’t know unless you try, will you? I’ll help you.”

Charles held his gaze as if to gauge his seriousness. He glanced back at the children, but they were still where they were a few moments ago. Finally, he sighed and stood up.

“I’m going to regret this.”

“Hardly. Come here.”

Charles approached him and Erik handed the wooden longbow over, summoning the metal arrow once more. 

“Now, this bow is suited to me, given my skill, size, and power, so it’ll take a bit more effort from you, but I’ll help. You remember the basics on how to nock and draw, yes?”

Charles demonstrated it easily enough, nocking the arrow and drawing back. He could see the discomfort in his face as he did so, the tension from the string exercising muscles probably long disused. Erik stepped behind him and placed his hands over Charles’, helping him pull back the arrow completely.

“Do you feel it in the muscles between your shoulder blades?” Erik asked, his lips brushing against strands of brunette hair.

“Yes,” he answered back, his voice strained, probably from the physical exertion. 

Erik adjusted Charles’ stance, moving his elbow up to his cheek and tilting his chin so he could keep the target in sight. He could feel Charles’ muscles trembling beneath his fingertips. He returned his hands to Charles’ and guided him in releasing the arrow. The metal flew through the air and slammed into the doily, a few inches away from the center.

Charles looked up at him with a smile playing across his face. Erik glanced down and only now just realized how close they were to one another. He was pressed up against Charles’ back, his arms still around him and they both held onto the bow, their fingers intertwined. Charles’ smile slowly waned and Erik could see him searching his face for something. He wanted to lean down and press his lips to Charles’ once more, dive into his neck and try to figure out what that sweeter tone in his scent was, luxuriate in the smell of him. He gathered what strength and self-control he had and forced himself back. Charles watched him go, something like disappointment in his face before he handed the longbow back to him, their fingers brushing.

“Thank you. I may have to take some time to start practicing again. It could be useful. There are a lot of books on hunting and fur-trapping here in Genosha. Perhaps I’ll make my living that way. I could set up shop next to your smithy, who knows?” Charles joked, stepping away from him and back towards the blanket.

Erik took a deep breath, pushing away the close encounter as he joined the other man on the blanket.

“You know, you’ve spent days learning just about everything there is to know about Genosha. You may know more than me at this point. Not an easy feat, believe me. It makes me wonder if you truly are taking my daughter’s words to heart and choosing to stay,” Erik remarked casually. 

“I haven’t talked over any plans with Logan yet if that’s what you mean. All these books and your stories give Genosha an undeniable appeal. I do, however, feel secure in saying that one might need a certain amount of commerce to explore even the tamest parts of the country. I’ve still not found a job in town. It might be that I will have to expand my search to towns outside of this one.”

“Is Logan so determined to run you off?” He asked, feeling some anger rise up. 

Charles was quick to dispel the thought.

“No, no. It’s nothing of the sort. He’d let me stay forever, I suspect. It’s me. Call it pride, but I’m not comfortable living off my godfather’s goodwill for very much longer.”

“What was it you were planning to do?” 

“Anything I can really, but teaching is a passion of mine. I did it for a short while back in Westchester before I married…” Charles trailed off, averting his gaze. 

He always got this way when he revealed something of his past to Erik, like Erik was going to do something to him, but he couldn’t fathom what. 

“I know firsthand that you are an excellent teacher. I’ve yet to see Pietro respond to anyone as readily as he has done with you. I would hire you as a tutor if you’d let me.” 

Charles waved a dismissive hand. 

“I could hardly ask you for money, Max. You’re my friend. I wouldn’t feel right. I don’t teach Anya and the twins for money, I do it because they are perfectly lovely and I’m happy to do so. You and the children, you’re planning to leave very soon, aren’t you? I imagine your village must be missing their blacksmith.” 

Charles chuckled weakly, almost nervously, at the statement, but Erik couldn’t say why. He shrugged in reply. Azazel had not returned yet and nothing could be done without the Sokovian soldiers. When they did come through though, nothing would stop Erik from pursuing Lord Shaw, not even… well, not even Charles. Erik couldn’t allow that. However, he also didn’t know how he was going to moderate his anger. He had to rely on his knights for this fight, but he knew himself. He could always self-regulate, but there was something about the Shaws that let his alpha spirit loose. He could do little to leash it once more, not until the challenge was complete and his enemy eliminated, no matter the cost to himself and those around him. He hated to think of that inside of himself. It fueled him, gave him the motivation he needed to keep going, but that part of him, that dark part, was meant to be just for himself to see and no one else. His father wasn’t meant to know, Anya certainly wasn’t, but they had. He didn’t want Charles to know that side of him. That meant leaving sooner rather than later, but still… 

“We’re not leaving yet, but the plan is to go without too much delay,” Erik answered carefully. 

“Of course,” Charles replied quickly, fiddling with his fingers. 

Erik watched him, unsure if he should say anything more. Just as he made to speak, a voice interrupted them. 

“You can come with us.” 

The two men looked up to see Anya watching them, looking between the two with unreadable eyes. Charles looked at Anya curiously. 

“It’s like Father said, Pietro and Wanda will need a tutor when we return home. Who better than you, Charles? They adore you and you are smarter than any other tutor I’ve met.” 

Erik shot her a glare for eavesdropping and for pushing this delicate issue. She knew full well that it wasn’t that simple. Charles didn’t know about them, he couldn’t. There was no way he could fit into their world and he was better off if he didn’t, if his whole existence wasn’t laid bare to the wolves so they could pick him apart for daring to associate with the royal family. That was if they even won this coming battle and regained the throne. Anya tilted her head up defiantly in response to his chastising regard. 

“Charles has already refused,” Erik told her, his voice holding a warning. 

“You didn’t even tell him anything about home.” 

“I don’t want to intrude, darling,” Charles said, trying to mediate before they started arguing. 

“You won’t be an intruder at all, Charles. You would be most welcomed by all of us,” she replied, punctuating her words with a meaningful glance at her father. Erik glared at her harder, but she continued to ignore him. 

“Anything I do must accommodate David as well. I don’t even know where home is for you both and I would have to take that into consideration with him. Nothing needs to be decided just yet,” Charles replied, still trying to keep the peace. 

“Father, you didn’t even tell him anything about our house? He must think we live in a hovel. I’m sure if you tell Charles all about Krakoa, it will help his decision along,” Anya commented, her voice falsely naïve. 

By now, Erik was inwardly fuming. Charles looked between them hesitantly. He placed a soothing hand on Erik’s shoulder. The touch caused his skin to tingle beneath Charles’ grip, but his anger won out. 

“Max—” 

“Excuse us for a moment.” 

Erik stood up, but Charles captured his hand. He looked back at him.

Charles gave him a slightly imploring look before he felt a push against his mind.

 _“Be gentle, please,”_ he heard requested in his head. 

Erik paused and took a deep breath. He turned to Anya and tugged on her bracelet with his powers rather than physically drag her behind him. They trudged away from the magnolia tree and the playing children towards the edge of the clearing. He stepped just within a copse of trees, their companions still in view but out of earshot, before addressing his daughter. 

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” 

“I—” 

“You are being reckless is what you’re doing. What was that back there? Do you think any of this is a game?” 

“No, I—” 

“We are here because our home was taken from us. We must be careful, and there you are, flaunting about childishly in the face of danger. I expect better from you.” 

“Charles isn’t a danger, he’s a friend. He is the one in danger without us. We can protect him and David.” 

“We must focus on protecting ourselves at the moment.” 

“Nothing is going to happen to us,” Anya replied dismissively. 

“Is that what you believe? You think our lives are no longer forfeit? Has this humble village lulled you into a false sense of security? Then let me disabuse you of that notion. We are never going to be safe until Sebastian Shaw is no longer a threat. He will always be a threat as long as we stand upon the same earth as him. Charles is… a fine man and a worthy friend, a person I am glad to have met, but he is, ultimately, superfluous to our goals. You must know that,” Erik said, keeping his emotions in check. 

He didn’t like the taste of the words as they left his lips, but he could not doubt their veracity. Shaw was a man he’d been pursuing for over a year now. He could not turn away from it for a man he’d known for weeks, no matter how appealing a prospect he was, no matter how much his children liked him. 

“Charles fits with us. He belongs with us. I know it, I can feel it.” 

“Perhaps for the moment, but we can’t just think of the moment, we must think of the future. We have a greater responsibility than just to ourselves and our desires.” 

Anya scoffed in return, mumbling under her breath as she looked away from him. Erik rose a reproachful eyebrow at her. 

“Speak up if there is something you wish to say to me,” he bit out, admonishing and implicitly warning her to caution herself. 

“I said it is handy for you to think of our responsibilities only when you think I’m the one that’s wrong,” Anya retorted bitterly. 

“Excuse me?” 

Anya gave him a quietly accusing glare, refusing to moderate her words. 

“I am your father. Do not forget yourself or your place with me.” 

“My place? We wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you. Now, Wanda is afraid of everything and Saba is probably dead—” 

“Anya, you can’t possibly understand—” 

“Don’t tell me what I understand! You don’t understand!” 

Erik drew back in shock at his daughter raising her voice to him. 

“You don’t know what it was like to see you after Aunt Ruth. You were so angry all the time, I didn’t even recognize you. You didn’t care about me or the twins or Saba, all you cared about was the Shaws. It was all you talked about. You didn’t even notice how hurt any of us were. Then you went and did that stupid duel and you almost died. You were all bloody and bruised and you won, but I thought you were going to die anyway. I thought you were going to leave us, just like Mama and Aunt Ruth. Now there is going to be a battle to get the capital back and you’re going to fight. You’re strong, but if you fight Lord Sebastian, is it going to be like that duel where you get so angry that you don’t care if you leave me and the twins, where all you care about is winning? Do you even care what happens after you beat Lord Shaw?”

“Anya…” Erik trailed off, not sure what to say.

He already knew she was disappointed in him, he saw it in her eyes the moment he gained consciousness after the duel but she pushed it all away, held it down in a place where he wouldn’t see, where no one could see. He didn’t want her to see that duel, but she never listened to him. She witnessed him at his worst, but she’d also seen him at his best. A part of this was being an alpha, being a ruler, and she would make hard decisions when she ascended to the throne. She wouldn’t always be right or righteous, or sometimes she would but her actions in response wouldn’t always yield the best results. For the moment though, she was his eight-year-old child, who was bossy, clever, rational, and mature beyond her years, but still a child who was meant to look up at her father and see an infallible giant. Instead, she had him and all his rage-filled, anguished ruin. He hadn’t protected her from seeing that side of him. He didn’t know how to reconcile that for her. He stepped towards her, but she stepped back. He felt a flare of hurt as a tear ran down her cheek.

“I don’t know if you plan to come back or not from this fight. I don’t know if we’re going to ever go back home or who is waiting for us there, but I do know Charles. I don’t know everything, but I know enough. I trust him. The twins keep asking if Charles and David are going to come home with us. They don’t want to leave them behind. I want Charles to stay with us. I think you do too. I’ve seen how you look at him. I’ve seen how he looks at you. I saw it from the very beginning. There is a bond between you, a true bond, like in the stories.”

Erik scoffed. 

“It’s the stuff of fairytales, Anya. True bonds aren’t real.”

“Gabrielle and Suzanne are real.”

“They could’ve easily paid the rabbi to say such drivel. Rabbis have been paid off to do worse.” 

“Well, I believe it. If Charles is your true mate, then he is a part of this family, whether you claim him or not. I trust Charles not to leave if you give him a reason to stay. I trust him to stay if _you_ leave us.” 

Erik stood there, struck dumb as Anya strut away from him. He watched her wipe her face and trudge back over to where Charles sat nervously. They exchanged some words before Charles pulled her into a comforting hug, looking over her head at Erik quizzically. He shook his head wordlessly in reply. He had no answers. 


	8. An Undeniable Pull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles contemplates the future.

Charles sat on the porch of Logan’s inn looking up at the night sky. The day started out so promising. Max had begun avoiding him after that kiss days ago. Charles had felt hurt but did not move to close the distance between them. Then Max came back and Charles accepted him, deciding to put the kiss behind them. He still valued Max’s friendship even if the alpha didn’t want him the same way Charles did. He had managed to corral his inn-mates and take them on a picnic to a perfectly scenic meadow. Genosha was so gorgeous, even more beautiful than Westchester. Charles was sure in his youth he thought Salem was the most magnificent city on the planet, but after his father died, nothing appeared so bountiful. Maybe it was the fresh start that Genosha offered or that it was his first exposure to the world after years of forced physical and mental captivity, but everything seemed just that bit more dazzling. 

Things had gone well. Max was close with him again, flirting with him in the way he did. His gestures and closeness confused Charles, but maybe he didn’t notice the mixed signals he was sending. Still, Charles was horribly mystified and ill-prepared for the fight between Max and his daughter. He couldn’t hear what they said when they stepped away, but he knew it was intense. Anya had cried in his arms when she returned while Max looked like he was hit by a sledgehammer. Even after he calmed Anya down, nothing he did seemed to pull either out of their sour moods. 

The rest of the day was a quieter affair. The silence between Max and Anya remained frigid and absolute. Charles tried to engage the two in a conversation multiple times but found himself unable to bridge them. He turned his attention to the younger children instead, frolicking in the flowers with the twins and David until the sun threatened to leave them without light in the dark forest. 

Anya walked at the head of the group while Max stayed at the back as they made their way to Logan’s inn. Charles kept looking between them with curiosity and concern, but said nothing, regaling David, Wanda, and Pietro with old stories his father used to tell him and Raven about forest nymphs and unicorns instead.

Logan was still gone, so they returned to an empty inn. Anya said nothing as she absconded to her room. Max would’ve usually reprimanded her for that kind of behavior, rare as it was, told her to wash up first, but he did not. Charles watched him retreat to his room with a helpless gaze. 

“Daddy is mad,” Pietro offered unnecessarily. 

“Anya is mad too,” Wanda added. 

David looked up at Charles wordlessly, giving him a questioning nudge with his telepathy. He gave him a smile and soft kiss to the forehead, which seemed to satisfy him. It was times like these when Charles wished he had much less of a moral control of his power because he was clueless about the strife that seemed to have emerged out of nowhere. He wondered if he was the cause. They had been talking about him staying in Genosha after all. He didn’t think Max would have protested that, but his actions said otherwise. Maybe he still wanted to maintain distance after the kiss. Maybe he only sought to reconcile with him because Anya talked him into it or because Charles was the only other adult present. 

He felt a surge of disappointment. He didn’t think he was imagining everything. Sometimes Max looked at him in a way that made Charles think he wanted him. He’d seen the look enough in his life to identify it: desire and arousal. There were times when he could even smell it on the alpha. And Max had kissed him back, that was not just in his head. Max had also walked away. Charles should be grateful for the alpha trying to put some distance between them. It wasn’t the right time, nor was it appropriate for Charles to go down this road, not now when things in his life were still so nebulous. 

Maybe in another life where Charles was not running away from trouble and was simply a man who got a biological divorce in much less scandalous circumstances and met this widowed blacksmith, they could be together and who would ever bat an eye? Who would care? There would be no one searching for Charles, no target forever looming over his head. He could be safe and happy. He could be bonded and married and it would be his choice. He would wear the mark of his alpha proudly, not in bruises painting his skin with abuse but as evidence of a match both consented to. Maybe, one day, he would even fall in love and it would be something out of children’s stories. His mate would hold him like he was something precious, someone to be cherished and not broken. They would look at him with eyes that knew precisely every minute detail of who Charles was, not as the son of Lord Xavier or the ex-mate of Cain Marko or a Gifted omega to be claimed, but Charles as a person. If Charles was able to inspire a fraction of the emotion he had felt shared between Gabrielle Haller and Suzanne Dane, even just a tenth of it, that alone would be enough for him to allow things in his life he had previously written off, like marriage and love.

As it was, Charles could ruin Max’s reputation. Maybe that was why Max did not want him to stay. Maybe this was all down to biology and the only reason Max was attracted to him was that he was an alpha and Charles was an omega. A simple matter of pheromones reacting. Maybe Charles was a terrible temptation that Max wanted no part in, and the sooner he was gone, the better for everyone involved.

Dinner was no more of a jolly affair than their evening at the meadow had been. Pietro still tried to launch his food at Wanda and David while Charles chastised him, but Anya kept mum, not starting any of her usual conversations about books or songs or plants. Max also said nothing, which wasn’t unusual, but the stormy look on his face was. Charles washed up the dishes as he usually did, got David cleaned, and put down for bed. Max was in the nursery doing the same with the twins, but neither spoke. Charles eventually retreated to the back porch, looking out into the night.

The sky was lit up with a tapestry of stars settled amongst black, blue, and purple. He wasn’t sure he ever saw such a sight in Westchester. Genosha was truly one of the most beautiful places he ever had the fortune of seeing, and he might have to leave soon. This village was hardly the only one in the country. Anya mentioned that the Eisenhardts’ home was in Krakoa, which he knew was the capital. Surely he’d be able to find employment there. And if he happened to wander into Max’s smithy every now and again… 

But no, he shouldn’t make plans. Max didn’t want it. But it was so hard not to indulge in childish fantasies. The longer he was away from the Markos, the more he realized that he could have a life. He didn’t need to spend every waking moment looking over his shoulder, did he? If he found a place and carved out a life for himself, if he buried himself and David in it, wouldn’t that be better than hiding in Logan’s inn forever? Kurt and Cain would be looking for an exiled noble bumbling his way through life haphazardly. Maybe they thought Charles, as unskilled and helpless as they perceived him, would be using his Gift to make a living. He could become a teacher, never tell anyone about his telepathy, maybe even change his name, and no one would be the wiser. Then he could stay with Max and the children. The two men would be free to explore the tension between them, and… 

He shook his head once more, trying to dispel fanciful notions. It was doing him no good to lie to himself.

Charles turned and looked behind him as the door to the cottage opened. Max stepped out and faltered when he saw Charles sitting there. They stared at one another for a long moment before Charles glanced away, turning his gaze back to the sky. He expected Max to go back inside, but instead he approached him and sat down, his scent filling Charles’ nostrils.

They were quiet for a while, each taking in the sight above them. 

“I’m sorry,” Max said suddenly. 

Charles gave him a curious look. 

“Today, the meadow, you shouldn’t have seen that.” 

“What exactly was that?” 

Max sighed deeply, a put-upon expression on his face. When he spoke, his words were chosen very carefully.

“A little while ago, after my sister died, I did something impulsive. I thought it was necessary to get justice for her death. I didn’t really want justice though, I wanted vengeance. Anya saw me in a low moment and it still affects her. I fear her trust in me may be irrevocably shaken.” 

“My friend, you must know she loves and trusts you above all else.” 

“It seems she is quickly coming to trust you more.” 

Max didn’t sound bitter, merely resigned, as if it were a fact. 

“You are giving me entirely too much credit.” 

“You’re not giving yourself enough credit. So much for not having any tricks of the trade, eh? All my children are besotted with you.” 

“Well, David’s half in love with you.” 

“David is an angel compared to my children. I’ve seen them reduce weaker people to tears. Anya has run less strong-willed people off with her opinions on the latest art trends alone, but here you are. It’s like you were meant to fit in with us.” 

Charles felt his heart flutter at those last words, even though Max said them so quietly he didn’t think he was meant to hear. 

“I’m like a shiny toy is all. My newness gives me an appealing veneer. But you? You’re her father. The trust a child can have for their father can be boundless, even when they stumble, even if they’re wrong. Trust me, I know from experience,” Charles counseled him, growing more wistful.

Max gave him a distantly questioning look. He wouldn’t push if Charles asked him not to, but he wanted Max to… he wasn’t sure. He just knew he wasn’t ready to let him go. If that meant giving away a small piece of himself, he was willing to do that. 

“My father, Brian Xavier, wasn’t perfect. Everybody learns as they grow up that nobody is perfect, but he was close to it. My mother, she didn’t… I don’t know. I don’t think she wanted the life of an omega. I can understand that in some ways. I certainly know firsthand some of the worst-case scenarios omegas can face. Knowing that makes it more mystifying to me now that she was so apathetic towards us. Sharon didn’t have it half so bad when he was alive compared to life with my stepfamily. But that was okay, because my father and I had each other and then we had Raven too. It was just the three of us making life something worth living together. Like I said, he wasn’t perfect. He trusted too easily. It’s strange, isn’t it? An alpha who never saw the merits in challenging other alphas he met.” 

“Never?”

“No, not even when he was younger. He made friends with people like Logan, who the world saw as abominable, but in always giving everyone the benefit of the doubt, he inevitably trusted the wrong person. That person led to his downfall, his death, and made my life and my sister’s a living hell for entirely too long. Sometimes, if I’m of a mood, I blame him— my father. I would think, ‘he should’ve known better, been a better judge of character, he should’ve protected us’. That is only rare, low moments because I know he loved me. He showed me every day. He was not without faults, but if he could’ve, he would have protected me. I know that. Anya knows the same about you. I don’t need to know exactly what happened between you. You have faults, everybody does. Children learn their parents aren’t infallible. It is a part of growing up. That doesn’t mean they love you any less or that you’re any less worthy of their love and admiration. If she didn’t love you, she wouldn’t keep her true feelings inside for so long. She didn’t want them to hurt you, I suspect. That’s not an indication of a lack of love, my friend. It’s quite the opposite as far as I see it.” 

Charles was not sure where all that came from. He didn’t know he had to get that off his chest until he said it. It felt natural to say those things to Max. He trusted him. He probably shouldn’t. They hadn’t known each other long, had they? Time felt strange at Logan’s inn. Charles could not account for the passage of it. There were lovers he had had for months on end, almost a full year, and he never felt compelled to share anything so intimate with them even after he had given over his body to them. This felt more sacred. Maybe it was because it concerned his father and Charles didn’t talk about him to anyone, not even Logan, but Max… 

Max was staring at him with an expression that Charles couldn’t pinpoint. He looked like he had been bludgeoned and was ogling Charles perplexed and bewildered. Charles began to feel guilt. Maybe he overstepped. Maybe he put his foot into something he had no business inserting himself into. Whatever issues existed between Max and Anya, Charles was hardly going to clear it up with a diatribe about himself and his father, was he? He thought to apologize, but Max finally recovered from his daze. 

“You…” he shook his head, trailing off into a sharp laugh of bafflement. 

“What?” Charles asked, well and truly confused with the alpha’s behavior. 

Max looked up at him from beneath his eyelashes. 

“You are just… beautiful.” 

A blush colored Charles’ cheeks and he glanced down. 

“That’s not true at all. I’m still too thin, I’m short, and everyone always says my nose is too big. I probably look as if I’m slowly wasting away or recently infirmed.”

Max reached out and lifted his head so their eyes met. 

“You are a temptation I am finding it harder and harder to resist.”

Charles’ breath hitched in his throat and he was now the one rendered flummoxed. It figured Max needed only one sentence to make him inarticulate while Charles needed an entire speech. When Charles said nothing, Max’s brow furrowed in worry. 

“Charles?” 

“Then don’t.” 

“Don’t?” 

“Don’t fight it. I don’t know what… I’ve never… it feels fast, too fast, but I know this, whatever it is, it’s not wrong. So, don’t fight it.” 

Barely a second after the words had left Charles’ lips, Max was on him, their lips pressed together brashly. Max’s large hands encased his face and held him there as their mouths moved against one another. An involuntary groan escaped Charles as Max nipped his lip before diving back in. He wrapped his arms around Max’s neck, pulling him closer. His heart was stuttering in his chest, a flush of heat ravaging his body, a tingling in his stomach, longing in his loins. 

He gasped in surprise as Max pulled him onto his lap. He could feel the evidence of his arousal pressed up against his ass. He flushed and then felt foolish for doing so. This was not their first kiss and he had had lewder encounters in the past. He was no blushing maiden, but there were five years between his hedonistic teenage escapades whereupon he and his well-bred conquests retreated to feather beds adorned in brocade sheets and satin pillows. At worst, he found himself in some lord or lady’s lavish gardens hidden among lush flower beds and extravagant centerpiece fountains. He was used to soft hands removing expensive fabrics from his body with no care because money was of no consequence. All the lords and ladies drowned themselves in so many perfumes and oils that he could never be sure what was their scent and what was manufactured, not that he ever really cared. Every encounter was hollow and meaningless with people he barely ever liked. It was never about them. They were tools meant to be waged in his silent war against his stepfamily. He could dance and talk and sleep with them all night and indulge in their fantasies about a future together, make himself receptive to their claims that they would marry him, but there was nothing in him for them. 

Here he was, on the porch of a defunct inn with a blacksmith who didn’t put on any airs, wasn’t pampered and perfumed, but smelled intoxicating all the same. 

He felt downright virginal, melting into the feel of Max’s fingers inching past his woolen shirt to splay against the blemished, scarred skin of his back, carefully caressing his sensitive ribs with calloused palms. He ground his hips down against Max’s groin, trying to get some control back. A growl rumbled in Max’s chest and Charles shivered at the sound, feeling pride that he was still able to make someone make that noise of his own volition. He ground down again, reveling in the feel of Max’s length pressed against his backside. He could feel the heat moving down to his groin and his ass, could feel himself getting wet and hard as Max moved them once again. He stood up, prompting Charles to wrap his legs around his waist, grunting as his back hit a wall of the inn. Max nosed his way up Charles’ face, his stubble burning a path up his cheek before he captured Charles’ ear lobe between his lips. A helpless whine escaped him. 

“Max…” 

The other made a grunt that Charles read as discontented. Max’s hand moved to his ass and adjusted him so their groins were pressed together. Charles let one of his feet hit the floor so he could grind against Max properly. His body flushed with another wave of fire. He knew he wasn’t going into heat. He remembered what that felt like, but he was getting wetter and his desire was ratcheting higher and higher. In that moment, he didn’t care about Cain or Kurt, didn’t care about his uncertain future or his painful past, didn’t think of his sore ribs or the marks on his body that still said he belonged to another, the only thing he could think of was Max. He wanted him on top of him, under him, inside him. He wanted to be wrapped in him, clothed in the scent of iron and smoke, sandalwood and petrichor and forget himself in it. 

“Max, I need you.” 

Max pulled back and looked at him. His pupils were blown and dark, but Charles could see conflict in his eyes. He got a horrible notion he was going to walk away from him again. He didn’t think he could take it this time. His body did not feel like it was entirely his own. He never felt hunger of this magnitude before. He was irrationally terrified that the yearning would rip him apart unless Max kept touching him.

“Please,” he begged, pulling him into another kiss filled with lustful pining. 

Max pulled away and pressed their foreheads together. 

“I shouldn’t, we shouldn’t. We can’t—” 

“We can. I know I’m disgraced. I cast my honor to the wind long before my divorce. I am not chaste or pure—”

“I don’t care about that. There is so much about me you don’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters more than you know.” 

“It doesn’t. There is only one thing I need to know right now. Do you want me? Not as a willing hole to abuse, not because you haven’t had a good shag in a while, not because you want to try out an omega, but because… because there’s no living person you’d rather be standing here with right now. That’s how I feel about you. There’s no one, Max, no one else. And if you don’t feel that way, we can stop. I will never bring it up again, we’ll go our separate ways, and that’ll be that. But if you want me—” 

“Charles—” 

“If you want me, then don’t walk away again. Please, stay. Do you want me too?” 

“Charles, please—” 

“ _Max_ , I need to know. Do you want me?” Charles asked, his desperation seeping into every syllable.

Max pressed a kiss to his lips that was not the frenzied embraces of before. It was softer, languid and meaningful. Charles’ heart thudded in his chest. Heavens above, he was gone for this man. It was too soon and there was so much between them, but that didn’t make it any less true. 

“I want you more than I could possibly tell you,” Max admitted. 

“Then nothing else matters.”


	9. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik must face the music.

Erik sat on the windowsill of his room, staring out into the night. Sometime during the haze of lust and high emotions, it began to rain. He watched the droplets fall with force to the ground, watched it soak into the soil. He sighed and wiped a hand across his forehead, sticky with dry sweat. Behind him, Charles was asleep, his naked body exposed atop the sheets. A rush of heat struck him as he thought about them a scant couple of hours before.

He did not know how much time passed by in a blur of lust-drunk kisses and skillful touches. He had stripped Charles down, examined every inch of his skin. He was not unblemished. He bore scars from what looked like whip marks and other injuries. He had at least four bites, faded but still visible as white raised scars. When Erik touched them, he didn’t feel anything, didn’t get the scent of another alpha. They simply existed as reminders that he was not Charles’ first, but it didn’t matter. He was who Charles wanted. Or Max Eisenhardt was.

Memories of Charles invaded his mind. Alive and willing underneath him, begging and receptive to every sensation, tight around his cock, pulling him in deeper, running his fingers through his hair and pressing, dare he say, loving kisses to the battle scars Erik had. The way Charles begged him to take him, to stay. They had not bonded, Erik had managed enough self-control to pull out before he knotted inside of him and did not bite into Charles’ neck, no matter how much he wanted to. Now, he was here, filled with shame and regret. It felt wonderful in the moment, but every time he heard Charles call him Max, he remembered that this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Charles didn’t even know his name, how could he genuinely want him? He had been living in a fantasy world. Staying here in Logan’s inn had cast some kind of spell over him, made him forget that this was not what he was meant to be spending his time doing. He had a duty, a cause he was meant to be fighting for, no matter how forestalled the efforts were. 

But Charles…

The lure towards this omega was not simple biology, it couldn’t be. Anya thought they had a true bond. Literature and the Torah were rife with true bonds, while scientists seemed to believe it may have existed once but was a rarity now. Erik didn’t give it merit at all. It was ridiculous, the kind of thing said to children to preserve their innocence. Still, he had met plenty of omegas before and was never drawn to them like this. He would not call it love, he couldn’t, he didn’t know what to call it. It was enough for him to forget his troubles, let the world around him cease to exist, and lose himself in Charles for a few hours.

Reality was hitting hard. He had just made this so much more difficult for himself. Now that he knew what he was leaving behind, he didn’t know if he could go through with it. Even so, there was a looming truth hanging over them. No matter how much Charles claimed Erik’s secrets didn’t matter, they did. When he went home, his council would not be expecting him to bring along a foreign omega consort, a divorced one at that with a child. They would say it was unseemly, that he was irresponsible, that he was acting for himself and not Genosha, especially in what will be a fragile time of transition from Shaw’s coup and his father’s death to Erik’s kingship.

Charles’ political beliefs aligned with his for the most part, and when they disagreed, he could at least understand Charles’ viewpoints. Erik already had his heirs, so there was no worry there. Still, Charles’ past would be used against them both. His personal life would become public fodder for the Genoshan nobles at court. Erik could not thrust him into the limelight like that, especially if he was running away from a dangerous situation.

“Max?” A hoarse voice called from the bed. 

Erik tried not to think of why his voice was rough, but failed, recalling warm lips wrapped around his length and shouts and moans of pleasure drawn from Charles’ throat as Erik smothered the noise with his shoulder, the pillow and the sheets. He was thankful for the thunderstorm covering up the sound so the children didn’t hear them, couldn’t hear Charles’ praises, curses, and the wrong name.

“Over here,” Erik replied as Charles sat up.

He gave Erik a sleepy smile, which he returned involuntarily. Charles looked gorgeous, damn-near glowing. His hair was a mess, his blue eyes appeared brighter in the darkness, and his naked body called to the alpha spirit inside of Erik. It knew that he and Charles had not completed the bond between them, that Erik hadn’t marked him, claimed him as his own for the world to see. He pushed down the urge to jump on the smaller man and ravish him once more.

“What are you doing up? If we don’t get some sleep, the children will run roughshod over us tomorrow,” Charles pointed out.

“I was watching the rain, making sure it wasn’t pooling so it didn’t flood the stables,” he explained, returning his gaze to the wet earth beyond the glass.

He heard Charles rustling around and then footsteps approach him before Charles came to stand next to him, peering out the window as well. He didn’t think or hesitate as he grabbed the shorter man around the waist and pulled him into his lap. Charles had brought the bedsheet with him. It acted as a barrier between their bare bodies. It was probably for the best. Charles settled deeper into his lap and they watched the rain silently, each absentmindedly stroking and kissing various parts of the other’s body. Charles shivered in his hold as he pressed a kiss to the fading bite mark on his shoulder. He turned his head to him slightly but didn’t look back, allowing Erik to linger over the raised skin.

“His name was Cain,” Charles said, almost in a whisper.

“You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“I want to. I’m tired of staying silent for fear of him and my stepfather.”

Erik nodded against his back, however reluctantly. They stayed this way as Charles spoke, not moving to face each other.

“I told you my father died when I was young. I was ten. He had started this new business venture. It was meant to help young Gifted children with controlling their powers, especially if they manifested early. That’s how he met Kurt Marko. His son, Cain, was also Gifted. He had superstrength. My father wanted to help children like us. He wanted to open a school so these children could learn about their abilities alongside their general education. All Gifted children, not just the aristocracy. That was the first sticking point with Kurt. The other was that Kurt wanted to document us, keep track of us, and study us against my father’s wishes.”

“For what purpose?” Erik asked, feeling a sense of dread.

Genosha was a country that was friendlier to the Gifted, having been ruled by Gifted monarchs more than not. It was not so everywhere.

“He believed it was possible to cure people of their Gifts, like it was a disease. My father found out weeks before the school was to open. He and Kurt had a huge falling out and Kurt pulled his funding, so the school never opened. My father pressed on, determined to do it himself. A few weeks later, my father was dead. Days after the funeral, Cain and Kurt moved into my home in Salem. He claimed it was so he could help my family in our time of need. I could never prove with tangible evidence that Kurt was the one who killed him, or at least set it up, but I knew.”

Charles waved his hand at his head, reminding Erik of his telepathy.

“That wasn’t enough, not even for my mother. She married Kurt six months later. Kurt hated my sister and I, me especially. I was defiant and my telepathy scared him. Before he forced me to start taking suppressants, I would hear his thoughts. He planned to kill me if I turned out to be an alpha and marry me off to Cain if it was otherwise so he could keep my family’s money, our estate, my father’s research. He planned to get an heir and a spare out of me before disposing of me.”

A growl of indignation passed Erik’s lips at the blunt words. Righteous anger grew inside of him on Charles’ behalf. If he ever found this Kurt Marko, he knew he would kill him. And yet this was just the beginning of the story. It got worse. Charles leaned back and pressed a soothing kiss to his forehead. Erik relaxed minutely and tightened his grip around the other man’s waist.

“I started to rebel more and more as I grew older. I left Salem and went to university in York when I turned 16. I was nervous about leaving my sister. She is a shapeshifter but has a very visible mutation, blue skin, scales. As she grew older and had more control of her Gift, she was able to shift into what our mother deemed to be an acceptable form. Sharon seemed more affable towards her then and began taking her out into society. She loved to keep up appearances, and it would be unseemly for Raven to be anything but unblemished and perfect, so Kurt and Cain didn’t lay a hand on her. Cain wasn’t smart enough to join me at university. I had freedom in York. I made friends with scholars and other aristocrats there. I began having affairs and not being quiet about it. I wanted to embarrass Kurt enough for him to break the engagement. He didn’t. After I finished university, I had decided to stay in York with a friend of mine, Lord Tony Stark. I had been living with him anyway. He had more money and power than my stepfamily and we got along famously well.”

Erik felt a flare of jealousy. He had never been jealous of anything Charles said regarding his previous affairs before, so why now? Perhaps it was the fondness with which he said this man’s name. What sort of name was Tony anyway?

“You’re projecting.”

Erik could hear the smirk of amusement in his voice. Embarrassment stabbed at him as Charles let out a small chuckle. He interlaced his fingers with the hand Erik had rested against his thigh and lifted it to kiss the alpha’s palm.

“Anthony was just a friend. I lived on his estate with him and his mate, Virginia. I wasn’t the only friend living there either. He made a habit of collecting people so he could fill up Stark Manor. It was outrageously large but depressingly empty, even with the army of servants,” Charles reassured him.

“Please ignore me and continue. I’m being foolish.”

“It’s alright. I can’t say I’ll never be jealous of your past lovers.” 

The implication of the future. He didn’t want to think about what was to come.

“At any rate, I didn’t stay long in York. Sharon died and Kurt sent for me to be collected.”

Charles’ voice had quickly grown somber. Erik pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

“I know you said you weren’t close, but I’m sorry for the loss.”

“Not much of one. She wasn’t active in my life.”

There was something in his voice that told Erik otherwise, but he didn’t bother trying to dig into Charles’ issues with his dead mother. He suspected it reflected his own complicated relationship with his father.

“When I got to Salem, Cain was somewhere else with Raven. Kurt told me he killed my father and my mother, he’d kill my sister too if I didn’t do what he said. He told me I was to start retaking the suppressants and whatever else he wanted me to take. I was to do my duty as an omega and marry Cain, give him two children, and then I would be free to return to my life of sin. A silly lie, but I knew Cain really would kill Raven. She had heightened strength, but Cain was infinitely stronger. I left her behind for years so I could stick my head in books and drink and fuck with my rich friends. She would send me letters begging me to come back. She hated being Sharon’s doll, her new means of gloating to her friends. I would send her gifts and money and hope that was enough. I didn’t even visit for holidays. I was selfish.”

“Charles—”

“I was. It’s a fact. There’s no need for you to try to make me feel better. I failed my sister. I couldn’t let her die after I’d already abandoned her, so I agreed to do what Kurt wanted. I started taking the suppressants again. He got a doctor to prescribe me laudanum and something else opium-based to keep me docile and vacant. The only good thing I can say about that is I hardly remember much about my marriage. I remember Cain hitting me so hard sometimes that not even the drugs could keep me under. I remember doctor’s visits, operations to fix bones he broke. I remember… I remember him inside of me and how much I hated it. The drugs couldn’t take away how much I despised him. I wanted nothing more than to… I’m not a violent person, Max, I swear I’m not. I would never abuse my telepathy by hurting someone with it, but—”

“You don’t have to justify your feelings to me,” he reassured him, moving an arm across Charles’ stomach to pull him more firmly to his chest. 

Charles was shaking with emotion. Erik could feel tendrils of his telepathy leeching out from his control, letting Erik get a glimpse of his anger, heartache, hatred, and disgust. He had never thought this side of Charles existed. He wondered if Ruth had felt this way about Shinobi, if she lamented her misfortune to be born an omega, if she cursed the arrogant alpha who imposed his will on her life. He wondered if his sweet, innocent sister was forced to contemplate murder, just like Charles, who marveled in the existence of life within the smallest of creatures. It felt incongruous to what he learned about this man, mostly because this hatred, anger, and rage felt shockingly familiar. He recognized it in himself. It was the kind of emotion that Erik was sure he would’ve combusted from if he didn’t get to unleash it upon his enemies. He didn’t know how Charles refrained. How was he still here? Why hadn’t he returned to Westchester the second he got the chance and obliterated the Markos for daring to cross him? His telepathy gave him an advantage many others didn’t have, an opportunity for vengeance and escape. That mercy of his, was it weakness or strength?

“I got pregnant three times before David. I had two miscarriages. Cain was never gentle, even when I was pregnant. He didn’t care, he just wanted to dominate me, hurt me. When I got pregnant the third time, Kurt started sending him away so I would carry to term. I did that third time, but all the drugs he was shoving down my throat had an adverse effect on my physical health. She was born early and lasted about a day. I held her while she struggled. I didn’t need my telepathy to know she was in so much pain. I named her Cassandra. I held her when…”

Erik turned Charles to face him as he began shaking more violently. He held him tightly to his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as he felt tears hitting his chest. They were silent as water continued hitting the ground outside with more and more ferocity. He could distantly hear the horses neighing anxiously at the turning weather.

“After Cassandra, I was more willing to take the doctor’s drug cocktails. I didn’t want to be cognizant of the world around me anymore. All I would think of was my daughter and the horror of her short life, blaming myself for not being strong enough to carry her, blaming the Markos for her death, wanting to avenge her. Raven was still there then, her life was still under threat so I knew I couldn’t do anything. I decided to just drift away instead. It was easier.”

Charles took a ragged breath against his chest, pausing as the weight of his past fell over him. Erik held him tighter, silently grounding him however he could.

“I don’t remember a lot after that. I suppose things continued the same as they were: Cain taking what he wanted from me, using me as his punching bag when he pleased. Raven was married off and I never saw her again. She ran away from her husband and no one knows where she went. I don’t remember much from my pregnancy with David. I remember giving birth and holding him, then the next two years are a blur until David’s telepathy manifested. He pulled me out of the haze. I started planning to go away immediately when I got my bearings about me. I packed up David and myself, got some money and other belongings my father had stashed away, saddled a horse, and escaped. We managed to get to York, find refuge at Stark Manor. Tony knew a man working on safer forms of biological divorces. He did me the service, even though he risked losing his medical license for performing the divorce without Cain or Kurt’s consent. Tony helped me plan my flight from Westchester to Genosha once I remembered Logan was here. Now here I am: disgraced, penniless, and probably destined for poverty. I’d rather live in squalor with my son over captive luxury with the Markos any day.”

Charles let out a deep sigh as if telling the story left him drained of energy before he pulled back and looked up at Erik with a cautiously expectant gaze. Erik pressed a slow kiss to Charles’ lips in response. He felt the omega relax against him and sigh into the kiss.

“Charles Xavier.”

The other man made a noise of approval as he uttered his full birth name.

“You are amazing,” Erik commented simply.

Charles shook his head, but Erik wouldn’t allow it.

“To survive what you have and still be as kind as you are, that is a miracle. Most wouldn’t be able to find anything good in this world after that. I know I wouldn’t. I haven’t suffered half of the indignities you have, and I’m filled with rage and bitterness, but you? You find beauty in something as simple as a feather.”

“It was not just any feather, it was a white turtledove’s. There are none in Westchester,” Charles defended with a pout. 

Erik chuckled at the expression and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“As I said, you are a rare soul.”

Charles moved to settle himself in Erik’s lap and pulled him in for another kiss.

“You don’t scorn me for anything I’ve done, do you? For my promiscuity, abandoning my sister, my fertility failures, leaving my alpha behind, getting a divorce behind his back, taking our son. Others would say I turned my back on my duty, that I am tantamount to a criminal and a harlot, a bad investment at the least.”

Erik bared his teeth involuntarily.

“Any man or woman who thought to shame you would have to answer to me. And I would not be near as kind as you.”

Charles looked at him with an expression of appreciation and overwhelming adoration. He could smell Charles beginning to get aroused once more, his scent more prominent: black tea, cinnamon, roasting chestnuts, and the sweeter fragrance he had finally identified as strawberries. He pulled Charles into a kiss that was not as brash as their previous ones, but no less desirous. He could feel himself growing hard even as the scent of Charles’ wetness filled his nostrils. He ripped away the blanket between them and settled Charles’ opening over his cock. He could not help the groan of pleasure that left his throat as Charles sunk down, wet and hot, onto his length. Bursts of joy and pleasure went off in his head as the omega rode him, clutching onto his shoulders and moving his hips up and down, moaning deliciously into his ear. 

The first times they’d had sex that night had been hard and frantic, both desperate to finally resolve the tension between them since they laid eyes on one another. This time it was softer, slower. Erik’s fingers intertwined with Charles’ as he pressed his lips to every surface of skin he could reach, delving his nose into Charles’ neck where his scent was most potent, rocking up into him with a tenderness almost torturous to them both. He didn’t have an urge to knot or claim. This felt sweeter, less driven by their chemistry and more by their minds and, HaShem help him, their hearts.

When they finally climaxed, Erik could feel Charles’ mind just on the edge of his own. He had not violated Erik’s request, had not pressed inside to see what was there and unwittingly learned the truth. Instead of going inside, Charles projected his feelings outward, giving Erik impressions of happiness, pleasure, ecstasy and… yes, that was love. He felt his heart clench in his chest. Charles couldn’t love him, he shouldn’t, it wasn’t right. But Erik knew he felt it too.

It wasn’t this way with Magda. Their relationship transformed slowly over years, progressing from acquaintances to friends to lovers. He never met someone he wanted so completely from the very start, who seemed to fit him with all the familiarity and comfort of an old woolen cloak.

“Max,” Charles mumbled against his chest, sated and loose-limbed as Erik withdrew from inside of him.

“I know it’s too soon to say and you probably don’t feel the same, but I think I—” 

Erik cut him off with a kiss, unable to hear those words from Charles, not with the secrets he still had. He needed to tell him, he knew it in his heart and soul. Charles deserved to know the truth.

He closed his eyes, knowing that this could ruin everything and kill whatever relationship was growing between them before it ever had a chance to start. But there was no chance, was there? Erik would return to take his throne. And what of the letter he sent to Sokovia? It wasn’t a binding proposal, but if he showed up with Charles to the capital, it could reflect badly upon him. Who was to say Charles would want anything to do with him after learning the truth anyway? Charles expressed how much he hated Westchester’s politics, hated the fakeness of it all, the pageantry. Genosha was not as bad as he described Westchester, but there was still a fair amount of subterfuge and backwoods dealings. It seemed to him that Charles wanted a quiet life after what he’d been through. His lifelong aspiration was to be a teacher, not a king’s whore at worst, his paramour at best, prince consort in only his wildest fantasy.

“Max, are you alright?” Charles asked with concern.

Erik took a deep breath before answering.

“I’m not.”

“I’m sorry if I pushed with saying, or almost saying—”

“It’s not that. I meant that’s not who I am,” Erik confessed, opening his eyes to meet Charles’ confused face.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“My name isn’t Max Eisenhardt.”

Charles’ eyes narrowed.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s a front. Max Eisenhardt? He doesn’t exist. My name, my real name, is Erik Lehnsherr, prince of Genosha.”

Charles stared at him for a long while before a smile graced his face and he started laughing. Erik watched him, a serious expression on his face.

“Well, that’s hardly funny,” Charles commented between giggles. 

Erik continued to stare at him silently. Charles’ laughter began to taper off as Erik didn’t join him.

“Max—” 

“Erik.”

“Erik? Erik Lehnsherr? Prince of Genosha?”

“King in all but name with my father most likely killed in the attack on the capital.”

“Attack?”

“Remember the battle you saw in Wanda’s nightmare? One of the lords attacked the capital, Krakoa, took the throne.” 

Charles shook his head at him in disbelief as he stood up. Erik let him go and watched him walk over to the bed and grab Erik’s shirt, throwing the larger garment over his head before pacing the room, glancing over at him a few times.

“I don’t believe you. You’re a blacksmith. You used to go into town and work at the forge.”

“I was meeting my knights there to form a plan to take the capital back. Emma is one of those knights.”

Charles shook his head again.

“Logan said that he first met you in battle. That you were a fellow soldier.”

“That’s true. We did fight together to defend the city of Lensberg against marauders. He knows who I am. He later joined me at court in Krakoa. I helped him escape persecution for his personal life. He’s gathering military support for me now.”

“Your hands, you don’t have a noble’s hands, let alone a royal’s. I’ve met a fair amount of noblemen. None of them know what it’s like to lift a finger for themselves. They don’t have callouses or rough hands.”

“I’m an alpha. I’m a fighter. I don’t send men to do my fighting for me whilst I knit by the fire. I’ve been training with my sword since I was a boy. My hands wouldn’t be unblemished.”

Charles studied him for a long moment before shaking his head definitively.

“This is— it’s ridiculous. It’s absolutely ridiculous. You realize that, right? You are either lying or you’re insane. You are not a liar, so you have suddenly been hit with a case of mania. That is what this is. You’ve gone mad. You’ve lost your bloody mind,” Charles concluded, wildly gesticulating and pacing.

Erik sighed and moved to grab his pants as Charles continued muttering to himself hysterically. He approached the omega once he was covered and caught him by the shoulders, stopping his pacing and ranting.

“I could stand here and go over every minute detail to convince you that this is the truth, or you could just look for yourself.”

Charles gazed up at him reluctantly.

“You don’t like my telepathy,” he replied weakly.

“I have no problem with it, I just didn’t want you to see the truth, but now… look for yourself.”

Charles held off for a moment and then he lifted his fingers to Erik’s temples. He could feel when Charles pressed inside of his head. It was not the same as anything else he felt before. Emma’s telepathy felt as cold as her outer exterior would have you believe. There was something more insidious about the way her Gift felt. You didn’t know she was there the first few seconds and when she made herself known, the mind rebuffed her on instinct to protect itself, even when her intentions were pure. Elizabeth’s telepathy was warmer than Emma’s but felt sharper. There was an uncomfortable simmering current beneath her psionic presence that made Erik shy away. Jean’s telepathy felt unbearably hot. He avoided it out of self-preservation more times than not. David’s powers were wilder, not well controlled or defined, but not harmful, just chaotic to sort through.

Charles was nothing he felt before. He was warm inside Erik’s mind, inviting him to open up to him rather than forcing his way into his thoughts. It was akin to a caress, a loving embrace. He allowed his thoughts and memories to flow over to Charles, almost lulled into giving him everything by the innocuous telepathic request he made. Even when there was a noticeable change in the emotion behind his telepathy, he remained a welcome presence in his head. 

Charles pulled away from him abruptly and it took a moment for Erik to get his bearings about himself again. He opened his eyes, not realizing he closed them, and met Charles’. He was looking at him as if he had never seen him before.

“Prince Erik,” Charles said, sounding sure of this fact now. 

Erik’s lip twisted unhappily. He had hoped to feel more fulfillment hearing his real name from Charles’ lips. 

Charles turned away from him and went over to the bed, dropping down slowly. Erik joined him after a moment, sitting next to him and waiting for Charles to speak. He didn’t say anything though.

Neither spoke for the rest of the night.


	10. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles is forced to reckon with the truth and the implications thereof.

When Charles woke up, he didn’t immediately know where he was. He felt pleasantly sore and achy in places he hadn’t for years. He cracked his eyes open with effort and looked around to see a plain room with wood-paneled walls and carpeted floors. There was a tub in the corner filled with steaming water not too far from where he laid on the bed and clothes thrown over a privacy partition in the same corner. After a moment, he remembered that he was in Max’s room, the closer of their dwellings and so the chosen location for their tryst in their haste to find privacy. 

Max. 

Charles sat up abruptly, looking around the empty room. Max was gone. He slumped down into the bed, his mind reeling from the revelations last night. He didn’t know that he had ever experienced such disparate emotions in one night. He had been so happy, overjoyed at finally having Max, having someone he chose not just because he wanted to have sex, but because he felt deeply connected to them. No, because he was in love with them. He could admit it to himself, nearly admitted it to Max last night. He should probably be warier of it, but it was better than his parents. They met a week before their wedding. 

Having Max felt like fulfilling every deferred dream Charles ever had. Alphas Charles had lain with before were rough with him. They were stingy lovers who only cared for their own pleasure, fucking him hard whether he was wet enough or not. They would claim to want him, to love him, tell him their wish to lavish him with affection and presents. By the time they got to the bedroom, they only cared to sate their own desire and quelled his complaints with a lazy jerk of the wrist or knotted inside him to shut him up. 

In contrast, Max was giving and methodical. He took Charles apart with his mouth and his fingers, not entering him until he was a writhing mess, begging for Max to fuck him. When he got inside of him, he was not gentle, but he wasn’t overly rough either. He manhandled him and held him with a bruising but careful grip. He sucked marks into his neck and nipped at the skin but didn’t break it, not claiming Charles fully. He pulled his hair, pressed him into the mattress and kissed him with force, but Charles liked it because he chose it. When he wanted it gentle, Max turned soft, slow but not lazy, and held Charles like he was something to be treasured, protected, loved. 

Five years married to Cain, two years of taking lovers before that, but it was only last night that he ever felt the truest sense of pleasure brought about through mutual care and affection. He was ready to do everything possible to get that feeling every night. He told Max about Cain and Kurt, figuring if Max still wanted him with that knowledge, then Charles was prepared to try to make it work. He could find a place in Krakoa with Max and the children. He could find his way around being a blacksmith’s mate. He could be charming with potential customers and help Max sell his wares in the marketplace. He could set up a school and get money that way to help support their household. It would be slow going, just small classes at first. Anya said their home was hardly a hovel, so maybe it was a cottage like Logan’s inn or something similar, someplace with enough space for a couple and four children along with several other children to fit comfortably for a few hours in the day. He could teach the village children in the kitchen, he could clean and… well, not cook because he was horrid at it. When Max came home, he’d greet him with a kiss and help him clean away soot from his face. Then they would prepare dinner together and laugh with the children over their meals and retire to their room together at night. Maybe they would even have children together if Charles proved able and Max wanted. Cain and Kurt, Westchester, would be a distant memory. 

It was a silly fantasy, one Prince Erik tore away from him in the space of minutes. 

Charles fell back to the mattress, thinking of what he had seen in the prince’s head last night. His mind was easily one of the most gorgeous Charles had ever read. His thoughts were orderly and easy to navigate, but the organization did not make it a cold place. On the contrary, there was a sea of emotion simmering underneath the surface. Charles couldn’t believe he had ever thought the man to be cold or unfeeling. It was the opposite. He felt things deeply and fiercely, much like Charles himself. Maybe that was why they were such a match with each other. 

Walking through Erik’s memories, he saw the castle he grew up in, a large red structure on a hill overlooking the bay. He saw moments from Erik’s childhood. His mother, Queen Edith, a kind beta who he was close to. There was his father, King Jakob, who he initially had fond memories of but those became few and far between the older he grew. His younger sister, Princess Ruth, was a beautiful redhead with a smile that showed too many teeth. She was an optimistic girl who completely adored her brother if the memories were anything to go by and the feeling was mutual. His wife, Lady Magda Maximoff, was a striking woman with long brunette hair and warm blue eyes. He saw moments of Lady Magda and Erik growing up together, from playful children to curious teens then passionate adults. 

He saw the many tragedies he faced in his life. The death of his mother, who took ill and died when he was eleven years old. The years of strife with his father, who grew cold and distant after the queen’s death. The death of his wife from complications of childbirth. His sister’s death, a long drawn out affair that inspired a staggering amount of anger, grief, and pain. It shook Charles to the core, the deep grief that Erik felt holding his sister’s body, only dwarfed by the overwhelming rage as he went after Shinobi Shaw, challenging him to a brutal duel that he ultimately won. Still, the viciousness of the fight was a shock. 

Charles could understand in some ways. There had been moments when he was certain he could kill Kurt and Cain and never feel badly about it. Something always stopped him. Maybe it was his father. Somehow Charles knew he would not want his son to be a murderer, so he refrained. Erik did not show any restraint. After that duel, tragedy still found him. Charles saw the king’s possible death as Lord Sebastian Shaw attacked Krakoa, driving Erik and his children out of the city, where they fled to Logan’s inn and eventually met him and David. 

Charles was not altogether sure how to feel. He kept his own secrets, but he had been truthful about basic things, like his bloody name. At the same time, the prince had a good reason for the subterfuge. Then again, if he knew what was at stake for himself, why did he ever pursue Charles at all? Nothing could come of this. He was a prince, soon to be a king, Charles was nothing. No, he was worse than nothing, he was spoiled goods, secondhand wares, and foreign wares at that. He had no place in a castle’s court except to be led in through secret passageways like a common whore. A rush of anger went through him. Erik should’ve turned him away. When Charles kissed him, he should’ve rejected him. It would’ve hurt but not as much as this, not as much as knowing what he would be missing when he was inevitably left behind. 

Sadness swiftly overtook the momentary anger. He had thought his history was the biggest obstacle in their way, but this… 

His eyes began burning just as the door to the room opened. He sat up and looked at Erik as he stepped into the room and froze when he saw Charles was awake. He was in clean clothes and his hair was tousled and slightly wet. Charles could make out marks along his neck from last night. Another stab of despair settled low in his stomach at the unfairness of it all. He held his emotions down. He would not cry in front of this man. 

“Good morning,” Erik said, breaking the silence. 

“Morning… Prince Erik,” Charles replied, testing the feeling of the name on his tongue. It wasn’t horrible but felt strange. 

Erik’s face did something odd before settling. 

“Just Erik. How are you feeling?” he asked. 

Charles let a bitter laugh escape his lips. 

“Is that an honest question?” 

Erik grimaced but still looked at him expectantly. 

“Well, all this time I’ve been getting to know Max Eisenhardt, befriending Max Eisenhardt, letting Max Eisenhardt become a fixture in my life and now he has simply ceased to exist, so I can’t say I’m doing great at the moment,” Charles replied sarcastically. 

Erik grimaced deeper. 

“He didn’t completely disappear. I am him. Not everything was a front.” 

“Just your name and your occupation and the implications of your social status.” 

Erik conceded the point. 

“Do you know— what do you know about me?” 

“Everything.” 

“Then you know why I had to omit certain details about who I am and where I come from.” 

“I do. I even understand your motivations. That doesn’t mean I have to accept it or forgive you for it.” 

“No, you don’t,” Erik sighed. 

“I’m sorry, Charles. I’m sorry for the pretense. I’m sorry for involving you in my trouble with the Shaws. I never wanted to hurt you.” 

“It doesn’t really matter what you wanted to do, does it? You have hurt me. This hurts me.” 

They were silent, their eyes locked on one another. Charles slowly felt himself beginning to lose the battle with his tears. He bit his lip, trying to hold back the emotion but his vision still blurred. He exhaled sharply against the weight settling in his chest. 

“Charles…” Erik muttered, approaching the bed cautiously. 

A single sob escaped him. He held his hand to his mouth to keep the sounds inside, looking down to his lap as he took a calming breath that barely made any difference. It was as if the walls were closing in around him. He had had a chance for something real with Max and Erik took it away. Charles wished he could hate him, but he felt more hurt than anything else. The bed dipped as Erik sat across from him. He rubbed his hands up and down Charles’ arms comfortingly. He didn’t fight the touch, knowing it was soon to be one of their last. 

“You should’ve told me no. I would’ve been better off for it. It’s not fair,” Charles mumbled almost to himself. 

“I know, I know,” Erik whispered in reply. 

Charles pulled back from Erik, shaking violently with repressed emotion. 

“You don’t know. You have no clue what you’ve just done. I’ve spent so long believing I’d never have anything like this, not even anything close to it. The things the Markos did to me were bad: the beatings, the drugs, the forced marriage, the captivity, but the worst part of it all was being so completely and utterly alone. No one to talk to, no one to connect with, no one to show me the barest amount of kind regard, no one to reach out to. I was left to fester in solitude and despair in the darkest corners of my own mind without a modicum of solace. Even when I got away, I thought Cain had ruined me in every way I cared about. Then there you are and I see a chance, an avenue for something I wouldn’t even allow myself to dream of. Don’t you see? You gave me something I had lived so long without that I forgot what it felt like. For the first time in a long time, I had hope. That has sustained me these past weeks more than I realized. And now it’s gone,” Charles lamented. 

Erik’s face showed his devastation at his pain, but Charles could not comfort or absolve him of the guilt, much too deep in his own stormy emotions. 

“So, no, you don’t know. And I... I wish I could show you what it feels like, the cold absence of something so warm and affirming, but I can’t,” Charles finished tearfully, his voice cracking on his last words. 

The prince opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if unsure what to say or how to gather his thoughts. 

“You knew it could never work, why would you give me hope?” 

Erik leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together tentatively. Charles didn’t push him away. 

“How was I supposed to expect you? I never looked at anyone else after Magda. I never thought I would be able to open myself to anyone again and then I met you. You gave me hope too without even trying, you made me want for things I’d long dismissed. I thought I was strong enough to fight it. For both our sakes, I tried, but you are my equal and my likeness and I could only live with the distance for so long.” 

“Why couldn’t you just be a blacksmith,” Charles asked rhetorically, staying in Erik’s embrace until the shaking that wracked his frame abated and he didn’t feel like he was going to fall to pieces in front of him. 

“I drew a bath for you. The children are awake and have eaten already. Anya is reading to them in the common room. I… I can stay with you until you’re ready.” 

Charles shook his head after a moment. 

“No, you should go. There is no point in delaying the inevitable, is there? Nothing can come of this. You will return to the capital for your throne and you’ll forget all about me. What am I compared to a king? I’m just a disgraced whore with a son I have all but condemned to bastardry.” 

“Charles, you’re not—” 

“It’s true in all the ways that matter in this world. Your reputation as a blacksmith would’ve been sullied consorting with me, much less your reputation as a royal. I won’t be responsible for that,” Charles answered, growing more confident with each word, cloaking his true feelings behind thoughts of propriety, principles, laws even. 

As much as he hated Westchester’s obsession with decorum, it certainly had its place. Charles was his father’s son in many respects, but he had gained some valuable knowledge from his mother. He knew how to rein his emotions in, affect a mask of impassivity when necessary, wear society’s mores as armor or even a weapon. 

“Charles, you must believe that I view your reputation, whatever the world would say, as a mere trifle to who you are. It is inconsequential and does not reflect the man I know you to be.” 

“It does matter. What do you expect to happen?” 

Erik opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no answer appeared to be forthcoming. 

“Nothing else can happen,” he concluded, his voice wavering the slightest bit with self-doubt. As much turmoil as the truth was inspiring in him, it seemed nonsensical that something as subjective as propriety could destroy something as powerful and passionate as the connection he had forged with Erik, but what else could he do? 

_I will hold to the principles received by me when I was sane, and not mad as I am now. If I cannot believe it now, it is because I am insane, quite insane, with my veins running fire and my heart beating faster than I can count its throbs. It is the hot madness they say afflicts omegas, that and that alone,_ he thought, holding onto his favored passages to keep himself steady and resolute. 

“If this were to go any further, I could be nothing to you but your mistress to be spirited in through secret corridors and hidden tunnels for a few hours so you can take your pleasure and then turned back into the streets. It won’t be like it is here with the children and us, because it can’t be. To think any different is insanity and if nothing else, this most unexpected truth you have bestowed upon me has removed the wool from my eyes and I can see that I have been mad, foolishly so. I refuse to believe our acquaintance has been the result of anything else.” 

Erik reared back as if in shock. Charles let a bitter smile cross his lips as the next words, brought to mind by his literary heroine, sealed his decision. 

“I can live alone, if self-respect, and circumstances require me so to do. I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.” 

A bolt of recognition went through Erik’s eyes, but he still did not speak. 

“I need to think of David. He is more important to me than anything else. I will not endanger him more than I already have, so a clean break is best. We haven’t done anything that can’t be erased or ignored by the people who would care. If anyone does, you can just say it was down to biology. I was in heat or something similar and the urge became impossible to resist. People will understand. You can find a proper consort, some Genoshan lord or lady or a prince or princess who has been raised understanding what it means to be a king’s mate. That can’t be me.” 

_Preconceived opinions, forgone determinations, are all I have at this hour to stand by. There I plant my foot,_ he resolved. 

Erik’s silent gaze was heavy on him, but he did not look up at him. Eventually, the alpha left the room, the door softly clicking closed behind him. The emotions he had been suppressing surged up as soon as he walked out. 

_I am resolute. This is the right thing to do. Here I plant my foot,_ he thought, trying to make those words have meaning again. 

He closed his eyes against the torrent wishing to flow out of him and bit his trembling lip to steady it, ignoring the unpleasant shivers going up and down his spine. It was a losing battle. It wasn’t just this, it was everything, five years, ten years, fourteen years of pent up emotion that he had pushed down or tried to work through using sex or books but there was nothing to fall back on now, nothing to hide behind. His face crumbled and sobs he could not hold in were wrenched from him. He stuffed his fist in his mouth to muffle the sound as much as possible, not wanting to alert the children or Erik. All this time falling in love, living high off the hope it brought, and he’d forgotten that hope was a dangerous thing and love came with the very real risk of having his heart broken. 


	11. A Dose of Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik tries to move on in the aftermath of the truth.

Erik had known heartache and grief in his life. He knew the pain of separation due to death, knew the hurdle it was to accept the reality that the person you loved was gone and never coming back. He faced it with his mother, endless days of not understanding how a woman so lively and radiant could be snatched away so effortlessly by circumstance, leaving no one to blame. When Magda died, again, there was no one to blame. He would not be one of the men who scorned their children for their mate’s death in childbirth. He had raged at the midwives and the doctors, but there was nothing to be done. With Ruth, he finally had an actual target to channel all his feelings towards. This situation was different.

Charles wasn’t dead, but he was gone. He was still in the inn. He still was there at the table during meals, still played with and taught the children and cleaned up around the house, making projects out of all the broken things in Logan’s inn and probably making it worse. He was still a temptation Erik wanted nothing more than to covet. However, he was not there in the same way he was before. He and Erik didn’t talk anymore. Charles avoided his gaze entirely. They were never alone in a room anymore. There was no chess by the fire, no daytime excursions into the woods, no long-winded debates, no flirty banter, no offhanded facts Erik never cared for, no kisses or caresses that lit Erik’s body on fire, nothing, not even salutations. 

Anya was also not talking to him. She zeroed in on the tension between Charles and Erik immediately, he was sure. She had all but chosen a side. Erik didn’t know how to feel about it. He now spent his days stewing in thoughts and regrets, memories, and emotions. Without the interaction with Charles and Anya, he had the time to dwell on his circumstance and how he got here. All he could think of was Ruth. 

There was a ten-year age difference between them, their parents having been beset with fertility issues. Many of his siblings died in the womb or in the cradle, so Ruth was something of a miracle child. When she was born, Erik had stood over her crib and begged her to survive for their mother’s sake, so he did not have to watch her mourn again. He promised to love and protect her if she would only do him that one favor. He remembered taking her on her first horseback ride, spiriting her away to the onyx caves for a swim in the sparkling pools on her birthday, making funny faces at each other during Shabbat service in the palace synagogue, sitting by her bedside when she was ill, punching the first boy who broke her heart, comforting her when she became distraught over her omega distinction, dancing with her at his wedding feast, paying respects to their mother every year, wiping Ruth’s tears when Father announced her engagement, holding her as she begged him not to let her go, reading all her letters and knowing in the bottom of his heart that the words didn’t belong to her, finally defying his father and the laws of the land by going to rescue her from the Shaws and being too late. 

His sister was but a girl, forced to marry Shinobi when she turned sixteen and dead the very next year just weeks after her birthday. The marriage was early by Genoshan standards. Most princesses married at eighteen or later, but his father wanted to be rid of her. Her auburn hair could not cover up how much like their mother she looked. Seeing Ruth, Father felt like he was haunted by his own failures and so he banished her to a castle whose name portended the torture she endured for a year. He often went to sleep wondering if she had stayed up nights crying for him, praying for her big brother to swoop in and save her like every time before. He had promised her, he told her he would always be there, and he wasn’t. He had avenged her, or so he thought when he killed Shinobi, but Sebastian Shaw yet lived.

Lord Sebastian vacillated between claiming ignorance to the nature of Shinobi and Ruth’s relationship and denying his son ever hurt her. His position was that Ruth had taken a lover and that was the person who had killed her, even going so far as to execute some guardsman of his whom he claimed was Ruth’s lover. Lies. His sister wouldn’t and if she did, she would’ve told Erik. Now Shaw has taken his father from him as well.

He and Jakob had a lot of bad blood between them. There were too many conversations deferred, grievances left unaired, and feelings allowed to fester. However, he was his father and he loved him. He had wanted things to be different, but after Ruth, it felt impossible. Erik barely talked to his father after that. They didn’t mourn together, they went to council meetings and held court together to save face, but there were rarely of an accord with one another. Erik even refused to reside in the same shiva house as his father, mourning elsewhere with his children. Now there would never be a chance to reconcile their differences. Shaw took it away from him. He was convinced now more than ever, he would never be able to keep his sanity as long as Shaw still walked this earth, still breathed the same air as himself and his children. 

Shaw was a scourge on this land, on his family. He had taken his sister from him, taken his father, taken his throne, and his dignity. Shaw was the reason his relationship with his daughter was in question. Shaw was the reason he met Charles in the first place. If Shaw never stole the capital, Erik would’ve never met Charles and thus hurt him. He thought of standing by his bedroom door and listening to Charles crying inside. He didn’t know that he had ever heard such a beautiful creature utter such a heart-wrenching sound. His pain was so palpable that Erik was sure he could taste it on his tongue, feel it pounding in his head, twisting his insides up and constricting his heart in his chest. He almost thought Charles was projecting, but there was a noticeable absence in his mind. It wasn’t Charles’ Gift, it was guilt. He wanted nothing more than to comfort him. He hated himself for what he had done to him, but he hated Shaw more. He didn’t know how to fix what was broken between him and Anya or him and Charles, but he knew what to do regarding Shaw. He needed to die, there was no other option. Erik needed to see to it himself to put this all behind him once and for all. There would be no peace otherwise, not in his heart, mind, or country. 

He threw himself into planning then. His knights might not be back yet, but that didn’t mean he had to be idle. Shaw’s mutation was strong. Alongside that, he often wore a helmet made of a mixture of adamantium and vibranium stolen from Wakanda. The helmet had a strange effect on telepathy for unknown reasons. They would need to get that helmet off. It was metal, but Erik had always had an issue controlling vibranium. It was like the alloy had a mind of its own. They would have to figure out how to remove it. Shaw was at his weakest after he had expended a lot of energy so perhaps a coordinated attack from himself, Elizabeth, Heather, and a few others would be enough of a distraction for Azazel or Mortimer to get close enough to take it. Then Emma or Elizabeth would be able to use their telepathy to cut Shaw off from his power so Erik could strike him down. A part of him wanted to go after Shaw full tilt regardless, wanted the same kind of duel he had with his son, to fight tooth and nail until they were both on the brink, but he wanted Shaw dead more, wanted the finality of the action if not the satisfaction of doing it himself. If they couldn’t get the helmet off, Erik would remove it one way or the other, or maybe he could just crush Shaw’s head in the damn thing. Surely, he couldn’t absorb that.

“Daddy, Logan’s back!” Pietro shouted, pulling him from his maudlin thoughts. 

He glanced out the window to see Charles and Anya greeting the grizzled man. Erik stepped out of the cabin with Pietro on his heels. 

“Eisenhardt,” Logan said with a nod when he came out. 

Charles scoffed lightly. 

“I know, Logan. The ruse is unnecessary.” 

Logan’s face turned up in surprise at that. He looked at Erik questioningly, but he hardly had any answers to give the man. He suddenly remembered Logan’s warning before he left about getting too close to Charles. Well, he bungled that up. 

“We’ll talk about it later, godfather. Let me take care of your horse. You’re probably tired from your mission or whatever you want to call it.” 

Charles sounded bitter as he uttered the word. Erik bit his lip guiltily. Charles had the right to it. Logan’s gaze lingered on the telepath, but he stepped aside and let him pass with the horse. Erik’s eyes remained on Charles and his children as they disappeared into the stables, so he was surprised when he was suddenly grabbed by the collar, driven back and slammed into the side of the inn. 

“The hell did you do?” Logan demanded. 

Erik glared at him in return. 

“Get your hands off me,” he retorted, glaring at the other alpha challengingly. 

“I know what Chuck looks like when he’s angry. Instead, he looks like you just trampled his puppy in front of him. That wasn’t because of a cover story to save your royal ass, that was something more. I’m asking you again, what did you do to my godson?” 

Erik stayed silent for a while, but Logan pulled him forward and slammed him into the wall again. He could grab onto his belt and his boots and yank him away, but he deserved this, so he refrained. Logan’s nostrils flared as Erik remained silent. The scent of Charles on him would’ve faded by now to anyone else’s nose, but Logan’s heightened senses must’ve picked up something because his gaze turned murderous. 

“I told him right after. We both told each other the truth about ourselves.” 

Logan looked a little surprised but still likely to kill him. 

“If he told you, then you know how much shit he’s been through. Now you dump this on his lap on top of it. What the hell were you thinking?” 

“Clearly, I wasn’t thinking.” 

Logan didn’t look satisfied with that answer, but his hold was loosening. Erik sighed, not sure how to explain this other than telling the truth.

“Things went farther than I should’ve let them, I know that.”

“You think?”

Erik shook his head at a loss for words. There was nothing he could think to say other than what he had yet to verbalize but knew in his heart to be true.

“He loves me, Logan,” Erik admitted.

Logan narrowed his eyes at him, almost accusatorily.

“He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. And I think I love him too. Nothing can come of it, of course. Maybe that’s why I did it. Maybe I just wanted to feel that way again, laugh genuinely with someone, share small intimate moments, and make love with someone again just once before I go back to my life and all that comes with it.”

Logan craned his neck at him before letting Erik go with a distantly disgusted shake of the head.

“You fucking idiots. I knew this shit was going to happen, knew it the minute I saw you two lock eyes,” Logan muttered. 

Erik remained silent, not asking any of the questions that popped into his head. Why didn’t Logan keep them away from each other? They would’ve been better off. He should’ve never left them alone in this inn together for so long. Erik knew he was just searching for someone to blame, but the sentiment remained true. 

“What are you going to do now, bub?” 

“I assume you brought back support with you.” 

“They’re headed to the village tavern right now to meet up with your knights.” 

“Then I will visit the tavern, see what word has reached us from Azazel and start strategizing to march on Krakoa.” 

“That’s all well and good, but I meant Charles.” 

“What can I do, Logan? You know how he’ll be greeted at court. My council will make his life a living hell while the courtiers will run him out of the city if I show up claiming he is my mate. And we haven’t mated at any rate, not officially.” 

“Firstly, if you think some perfumed assholes will run Charles out of town, you don’t know him as well as I thought. Secondly, you can’t just leave him here. You two are true-bonded mates.”

Erik immediately rolled his eyes. 

“Not this again. It’s bullshit. It doesn’t exist.” 

“I’ve lived a lot longer than you have, bub. I’ve met a few couples who had a true bond before. I know what it looks like.”

“If I went back home and told them I found my true bond mate, they would think me mad. I would have to somehow convince the court rabbi to attest that it’s a true bond. Even then, that may not be enough.” 

“You managed to get me to safety, form the Brotherhood despite opposition, marry Magda even though the entire court thought you were crazy, kill Shinobi Shaw when I thought you would lose that duel and get Charles to fall in love with a man he thought was nothing more than a blacksmith. Get your head out of your pompous ass, and figure it out because you’re not just going to leave my godson here with a broken heart,” Logan all but ordered before stalking into the inn.

Erik watched him go with consternation. Figure it out. That was mighty easy for Logan to say because at the end of this conflict, no matter what happened, he would return to his inn, alive and mostly unscathed. Erik had no such guarantees. He shook his head, eyeing the stables before shaking his head again. He was no use dallying here. He needed to go to the village to meet the men Logan brought and see Emma. It had been too long. He allowed himself to be distracted from his duty by his burgeoning relationship with Charles, but he needed to rein himself in and get to work.

The walk into the village was somewhat helpful. He tried to clear his mind of all thoughts of his family, the future, even the Shaws and focus on putting one foot in front of the other. His mother would always say the longest walks start with a single step every time Erik felt he was between a rock and a hard place. He missed her fiercely in this moment, missed her loving guidance and abiding faith in him. If she were here, he suspected he wouldn’t be in this predicament. 

_ “Finally remembered I existed, did you? I suppose you’ve been rather busy with your omega, too busy for little old me,”  _ Emma projected once he entered the village proper. 

_ “Not now, please. Logan returned to the inn and informed me he brought the support.” _

_ “He did. Alpha Flight are ready to fight with us, for the right price, no doubt. That’s not all. Azazel has arrived with Lord Helmut in tow. He is leading the Sokovian forces. We have the numbers. We can march on the capital as early as three days from now. It’s time to set our battle plans.” _

Erik paused in his step for a moment as that reality sunk in. It was almost time to get what he wanted, what he had been craving for months. He didn’t feel the elation or anticipation he thought he would. Still, there was no turning back now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to give you guys an update, I’ve only got 2-3 more chapters to write, including the epilogue. This story had consumed all my attention to the exclusion of all other works and I am excited and motivated to finish it. I hope you guys are enjoying so far.


	12. A Whisper of Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles has several conversations that help him reckon with the recent turn of events.

Charles sat on the floor of his bedroom going through his belongings. He had still not decided what he wanted to do next, but he had been in a reflective, melancholic mood lately for obvious reasons. He glanced back at David as a clatter sounded. He smiled at his son as he played with a wooden block set Logan had brought back. Charles frowned a little, thinking of his conversation with Logan earlier that day. 

“How you doing, kid?” Logan had asked, coming into Charles’ room. 

Charles had leveled him with a withering glare. 

“Yeah, that seems about right. I’ve got a saber lying around somewhere. You can run me through if you want. I’ll heal.” 

Charles had rolled his eyes in reply. 

“I’m angry, but not homicidally so. At least not at you. Not even at the prince mostly.” 

He hadn’t talked to Erik since that day in his bedroom. After a long, hard cry, he wiped his tears, went out to greet the children, and continued with his day while largely ignoring Erik’s existence. It hurt more than Charles anticipated. So much of his life at Logan’s inn was wrapped up in Max. Without him, it felt undeniably empty. Charles didn’t know if he wanted to extend an olive branch to Erik. It was difficult seeing Max’s face on someone whose entire personal history he knew but was still virtually a stranger, so he stonewalled him instead. That hurt too. It was nearly impossible to ignore Erik’s forlorn gazes towards him and his overwhelming sense of longing, regret, and guilt when it was slamming into Charles’ psionic walls. He stayed away, reminding himself that there was no point in pursuing any further relationship with Erik. Charles was beneath him when he was still the unsullied son of Lord Xavier, let alone now with all the baggage they both came with. Erik was a prince, a king without a crown. Charles’ place in his castle was suited to scrubbing his floors, not living by his side. 

_Preconceived opinions, forgone determinations, are all I have at this hour to stand by. There I plant my foot_ , he reminded himself. That had become a mantra over the days, held him strong when he wanted to give in to the temptation of trying to make their relationship work even with this new complication. His copy of _Jane Eyre_ was well-worn as he had taken to consulting it like a pious man would verses of scripture. 

_Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation, they are for such moments as this, when body and soul, rise in mutiny against their rigour, stringent are they, inviolate they shall be._

Charles spent the early days of his life not truly aware that he had carte blanche to flaunt the principles and mores society would have imposed on him as a member of the aristocracy, even one who was not yet settled as an alpha, beta or omega. His father had created a bubble around him and Raven, making their manor in Salem seem almost like an island where they made their own laws and principles. The ones then imposed on him by Kurt were so rigorous that the moment he had the opportunity to break free of them, he ran about like a loose cannon, giving in to every temptation, indulging in nearly every vice, turning himself into an absolute cad even when such rakish behavior was not what his heart was set upon, and damn the consequences. 

He was never an entity unto himself. There was always the Xavier name to think of, his father’s legacy, Raven’s safety, even Sharon’s reputation. In York, he had given in to egocentrism. He wanted to live his life for himself, not that he did much with it outside of the classroom. He had equated his shameless, yet calculated, rapacity to freedom. After Cassandra and David, he couldn’t view that time of his life with much fondness. Perhaps it wasn’t laws and principles making him warier of temptation now so much as it was regret, grief, pain, and protectiveness over his son. He had lost Cassandra to the edicts and political scheming of Westchesterian aristocracy, he would not lose David to the same in Genosha. He refused. 

Still, that philosophy on temptation did not seem to hold true when it came to Max. He had fallen hard and fast, dived into the ocean without precaution never knowing if he would drown and trusting a man he didn’t know to save him if he got caught in the undertow. Maybe he hadn’t changed as much as he thought he had. Maybe he was still that self-centered, rebellious teenager running away from home into the arms of anyone who would have him because, ultimately, he needed someone to love him, even if it wasn’t real and was just for a few hours. 

Logan had dropped down on the bed beside him, reached out and squeezed Charles’ shoulder comfortingly. 

“What are you thinking, kid?” 

“I’m thinking about what a fool I was to trust so easily, to fall so quickly and unabashedly with a man I hardly knew. Serves me right, doesn’t it? Maybe I really am as much of a worthless idiot as Kurt always said.” 

“Don’t. Don’t ever let anything like that get in your head. It’s not true.” 

“Isn’t it? What am I going to do now? It seemed like a dream, but I had a rough idea of what the future could’ve been like: me, Max and the children together. It would’ve made everything that happened worth something. Those five years, all those losses, it would’ve brought me to something more. David and I would have a family, a chance at happiness.” 

Charles reached up and scrubbed away an errant tear. 

“It was preposterous to have thought of it at all. We haven’t even known each other for long. I only learned his real name days ago. I can’t love him.” 

“But you do,” Logan concluded. 

Charles scoffed, more so at his own stupidity than the validity of the statement. 

“I think I am still too raw after Cain and am simply throwing myself at the next alpha halfway decent to me. I need distance and time and I will get over this.” 

“I don’t think that’ll work the way you think, Chuck,” Logan warned. 

“Why not? I survived before I met Erik, I can certainly survive after he’s gone.” 

_I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself._

Logan looked at Charles contemplatively before continuing. 

“I knew a man once. We met back in Nova Scotia. We both traveled as guns-for-hire, doing odd jobs where we would cross paths. As soon as I met him, I wanted him. I knew it could get us in trouble. We were both alphas and it was forbidden to consort upon pain of death. No skin off my back, but even though Gifted, he was not immortal. He could be hurt or killed. The more we resisted each other and walked away, the more painful it became to remain apart. I thought it was just run-of-the-mill heartache, but as time went on and we stayed distant, it intensified. It was a physical pull, something in my chest.” 

Charles sat up straighter, recognizing that description. 

“We took a job in Inuit territory helping keep interlopers out of the tribe’s domain, protecting the border. They were the ones who saw it, who told us that we had a true bond between us. They told us our mateship was preordained by the spirits, that it was wrong for us to turn away from it and that if we didn’t complete the bond, it would just lead to more pain and suffering for us. We would offend the gods by denying their blessing. We’d never want anyone else now, they said, we’d never love anyone else so long as the other shall live and anyone after would be a pale imitation of love compared to our mateship. I figured it was just a bunch of superstitious nonsense, but I ached for him when he left. The longer we resisted, the more it hurt and it got to a point where it was debilitating. That was months into our separation. The pain crept up on us slowly, but the more we saw each other and left without completing our bond, the worse it felt when we were apart. So, we stopped fighting and we stayed together until he was killed. Nothing felt righter than being with him and nothing has felt that way since. I think that is what’s going on with you and Erik.” 

He thought of old stories his father told him about true-bonded pairs, made for one another by a higher power, destined to be mates. He had never thought he would experience that himself. Feeling Gabrielle and Suzanne’s love was a convincing argument. The testimony of his godfather, notoriously unsentimental as he was, added fuel to that fire. Meeting Erik was further proof for him, but still, doubts remained. 

“Logan—” 

“I know, I know. Classic wisdom says it doesn’t exist, it’s a fairytale, or at best, a long-dead phenomenon. I know what I felt with Hercules. I’ve seen it happen between a few others over the years. I’ve learned to recognize the signs, the look, the smell. Even if it isn’t a true bond, you got a chance for something real, Chuck. I’ve lived long enough to know that when an opportunity to love someone presents itself, you don’t turn away from it, no matter what anyone else tells you, no matter what barriers stand in your way. Living your life how others want you to live it isn’t going to bring you happiness, kid. You want to be with Erik, you have to make it happen.” 

Charles hadn’t said anything to that, instead choosing to stew in silence and let Logan’s words sink in. 

Did it matter in the end? A few days ago, it didn’t feel asinine to believe that some divine or cosmic force had made Charles and Erik for each other. Now it felt silly to contemplate, but his heart told another story. He knew precisely what Logan meant. Even while sitting in the same room as Erik, he ached for him. 

He shook his head to dispel those thoughts as he dug through his bags and took out some of the items he had brought with him when he fled Salem. His melancholy had given way to nostalgia. He took the time to examine his father’s fob watch, a pocket portrait of Raven, a pendant of St. Michael, a bound folder with Brian’s notes and plans for his school and his personal journals. Brian always liked jotting down his thoughts so he never forgot anything. Sometimes he even wrote letters to Charles or Raven that he promised he’d give them when they got older. Before Charles left for university, he gathered the letters written for him so he could have some words of wisdom from Brian. 

He took the last journal his father had written in, a black leather book with some papers hanging out. He removed a loose paper from the back and unfolded it so he could read the age-worn note. 

_My dearest Charles,_

_What to say to you? Today, you turned nine years old. I can hardly tell where the time went. It feels like just yesterday I first held you, squalling and red-faced but still the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes upon. Every day with you and your sister has been a gift that I could never deserve but thank every celestial force for receiving anyway. You smiled at me today when I gave you your present. Hardly anything ornate, a mere microscope, but I thought at that moment that I wanted nothing more than to ensure that for the rest of your life, you have every reason to smile that way: carefree and happy._

_There are days when I see you, witness your brilliance and talent, and even as my chest fills with pride, I cannot help but worry. You and Raven are so precious to me, but I know not everyone will see that. Some will only see your Gifts and deem you as dangerous or incongruous with polite society. If they only took the time to learn just how magnificent your souls and minds are, they could never think ill of you._

_My greatest wish for you, my dear boy, is that you know love. I know what will be expected for me to do. I know my duty is to marry you to whoever presents the most advantageous enterprise. On the contrary, I want you to find someone who will change your life, who will make you believe in the impossible, who makes you inconceivably happy, who makes you know in every way that you are loved and wanted._

_You must remember that love is not easy. Love doesn’t just happen. It is built and it is tested, it is sometimes opposed and denounced, but if your love is true, it can overcome that if you only fight for it._

_Nothing would make me happier or give me more peace of mind than to know you have a mate who inspires in you the love most only dream of. You deserve all that and the world too._

_With deepest love and regard,_

_your father_

Charles put the letter down and was unsurprised at the tears swimming in his eyes. His father had written many letters, all of them pure expressions of his love, but this one was always his favorite. It felt unerringly poignant now. What would his father say if he could see him? Would he be disappointed in Charles for his lack of chastity? Would he be like Logan and tell Charles that, even in this circumstance, he should shun the constructs of society and go for what he wanted? That was easy to say but much harder in practice. He didn’t know if he wanted to fight for this. Did he know Erik? He knew Max. He knew how to read the minute changes in Max’s face to tell what he would do in their chess games. He knew how to identify the barest tilt of Max’s lip as amusement. He knew how to read the sarcasm in Max’s dry wit. He knew what passion and fervor in Max’s eyes looked like when he was fired up during their political debates. Would all that remain the same with Erik? Would a name change that much about him? 

Erik and Logan were both leaving today while Charles stayed back at the inn with the children. They were going off to fight to get Erik’s throne back. Charles was hardly going to stop him. What could he do or say? Erik had a responsibility to thousands of people that superseded his relationship with Charles. Erik claiming Charles would cause strife in his kingdom. Charles was noble-born, but he was divorced, making him nameless and penniless, thus no dowry. He was foreign-born, always a source of tension in these kinds of marriages. He had buried himself in books about Genosha so he knew much about the land. He had always had a good head for numbers and had had the training expected of omegas so he knew how to run a household and organize the expected soirees of high society, but he was not of this country and that would always be held against him. 

Erik had heirs, but would Charles be expected to conceive to seal their marriage’s legitimacy regardless? He was told to expect fertility issues after the divorce, but pregnancy would not be impossible. If he did have a child, they would not inherit the throne unless the royal family was met with a plethora of tragic events. Still, if he had a child, he would likely be accused of being a social climber, having nefarious intentions to place his child upon the throne for personal reasons over Erik’s older children. If he didn’t have a child, then he was barren and the marriage was in doubt, most likely received as not being ordained by God, especially since he had a son in his first marriage. His telepathy would also always be viewed with caution. He would field accusations like the ones that came from Ms. Frost, a fellow telepath, of having impure intentions or imposing his will upon others. 

That was if he and Erik chose to be together. 

Charles rubbed a hand over his face. Why did everything have to be this complicated? He lamented once again that Erik was not a blacksmith. Their lives would’ve been so much easier. They could’ve been planning for their future together right now if that were the case. It would be a massive adjustment for Charles to go from the aristocracy to working class, but he could’ve done it. 

If they did separate, Charles wondered what would happen then. He suspected he would miss Erik fiercely. And not just him. He had come to care deeply for Anya and the twins. It would be hard to give them up. David had gotten used to them too. Charles didn’t know how he was going to facilitate that separation when it came. And Erik would go back to his throne and attempt to pass all the legislation for the issues they had been debating back and forth. He would be a king, probably a beloved one. Maybe he would get married again to some lord or lady for the sake of a bridge or a plot of disputed land or something similar and as for Charles, he’d forget him. 

That was if he survived this coming battle. They had their contingency plans set if Erik did not win. If Logan didn’t return in five days, then Charles was to take money Logan had stashed away, gather the children, and run to a safe house his godfather had in Alkali City. From there, it was up to Charles to figure out the best course of action. 

Charles could then not help but think of what Anya had said to him after she noticed the rift between him and her father. She had apologized and begged him not to be mad at her, not that he could be over this. They had talked about her life in the capital, her mother, her aunt, her grandfather, Lord Shaw and finally, her father. 

“I thought him telling you the truth would make things better, I thought you would talk about everything. It didn’t fix much, did it?” 

“What needs fixing that your father, in his infinite wisdom and strength, can’t fix on his own?” Charles had asked bitterly. 

“Himself. He’s angry, so angry. I saw that duel between him and Lord Shinobi. When we were watching the doctors save his life after, Saba said that that rage was going to kill him someday. That kind of anger would make a man kill himself just to take his enemy with him, destructive anger, not constructive. He didn’t know I was listening, but I heard, and I _saw_ it.” 

Charles had thought of the bottomless abiding pit of fury and grief simmering beneath the surface when Erik thought of Ruth and the Shaws. He wondered if he ever remembered his sister and recalled memories with fondness anymore or was everything tainted. Charles harbored his fair share of anger and hurt when he thought of his father, sister and even his mother taken from him by the Markos, but he found solace in happy memories. 

“What do you expect me to do about that, Anya?” 

“He has been different these past weeks with you. The anger hasn’t gone away, but it’s not the only thing he thinks of.” 

“You want me to distract him,” he had huffed in reply. 

“No… yes… I don’t know exactly. I just want him back, the way he was before everything happened.” 

Charles had softened, watching the young girl as she bit her lip and tugged on her fingers anxiously. Sometimes he forgot she was just a little girl who couldn’t always process and express her own motives. He supposed her maturity made sense now. She was the prospective heir to the throne and was likely raised as such. Her childhood ended long before Charles’ had. At eight years old, he still had the freedom to run around his estate with no worries. He had classes, but he was not yet taught how to run his estate, not yet schooled in diplomacy or policy. Anya didn’t have the same luxury. It was treachery that saw her family flee the capital, but this was probably the first opportunity she had had to indulge in childish play in a long time. She was not the heir to a single mansion but an entire country. Everyone must already evaluate her, judging her worthiness for the throne even though she had not settled into a distinction yet. Already the more opportunistic were likely scheming and thinking of ways they could use her for their own gain and for power. She was probably already aware of that, shrewd as she was. It must be difficult for her to know who to trust, or to trust anyone at all. Charles felt privileged that she deemed him worthy of her confidence. 

“I don’t remember much about my mother. I think she looked like you a bit. Her hair was a little darker, but her lips were red like that too. She had blue eyes. I remember she was soft and warm. Father was different around her, just like with you. He was softer. He cared about himself a little more. I just hoped that you could make him better like Mama used to. I don’t think he’s going to come back from the battle without a reason.” 

“You’re a reason, dear. The twins are a reason.” 

Anya had shrugged in response. 

“We weren’t enough before.” 

Charles banished his wandering thoughts once more. All these voices in his head just made him more conflicted. He didn’t know where his own feelings started or ended anymore. He shouldn’t even be thinking about all of this. It was madness, sheer and utter insanity. There was only one conceivable outcome to this and that was for their relationship to end. It _was_ over, Charles ended it and it was the right thing to do. 

_Here I plant my foot,_ he reminded himself. 

Charles furrowed his eyebrows as he felt a sudden surge of happiness that was not his own. David let out a delighted noise behind him, causing a smile to alight Charles’ face in response. 

“What’s got you so excited?” He wondered aloud, turning to look at David. The smile waned as he saw Erik standing in the doorway, cradling David in his arms. 

“Hi.” 

Charles didn’t say anything in response. 

“Logan and I are about to leave.” 

He continued to stare at him, not sure what to say. Erik let out a sigh. 

“Charles, I wanted to say to you again before I left that I’m sorry. I never wanted to harm you. It was never my intention. If I could take what I did to you back, I would. I never wanted to be someone who would cause you pain. The shame I feel knowing that I hurt you—” 

“Used me. You used me,” Charles corrected. 

“I… it wasn’t… if I did, it wasn’t deliberate or premeditated. I usually have better control of myself, but something about you… there is no excuse. I had no right and I apologize again for the artifice and for dragging you into this.” 

Charles pursed his lips in response, debating what he wanted to say, if anything. 

“Anya said I look like her mother.” 

“Vaguely, I suppose,” Erik answered, a shade of confusion on his face. 

“If you miss her and thought to use me as some sort of placeholder then—” 

“No. Charles, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.” 

“What is the truth, Erik? Do you even know what that word means?” 

Erik reared back as if physically slapped. Charles immediately regretted the words. He had omitted things about himself as well, but he had never had the luxury of presenting a false pretense about himself as Erik had. The very nature of his distinction took away his ability to lie about certain aspects of his past. He supposed he probably would’ve come up with some grand cover story if he could’ve, but he hadn’t, Erik had. He had done so for good reasons, but that didn’t make Charles any less hurt. 

“If there is little truth you can discern from me, then I beg you believe me when I say that I respect you. I respect your choices and sentiments on the matter and on me. It is not my intent to invalidate your feelings. I do not expect your forgiveness, nor do I deserve it. I have a debt to you that a lifetime couldn’t repay.” 

Charles clenched his jaw, turning over responses in his head before asking the question plaguing him. 

“Was it real? Any of it? Was I just some fantasy you got to escape into?” 

Erik looked deep in thought before answering, like he wanted to form his reply very carefully. Charles was not sure whether to be wary of that or not. 

“I cannot lie to you and say that the person you are was not some form of escapism for me. It has been a long time since I have matched wits with someone who I view as an equal. If you were ever an escape for me, it was only in the same way that a scholar might find communion in their books, or a musician in a song, or a lover in their mate’s embrace. You were a source of fellowship for me, not a means to ignore my problems or bury my grief. Undeniably, it became easier to forget my pain when I was with you, but I never set out to use you to do so. It just happened to be. Everything I felt for you, everything I still feel for you, is real. It was always real. It was hard for me to believe it was real because I had written off such emotion when my wife was consigned to the ground. I found myself needing to reach out and touch you to confirm your existence.” 

Charles looked down and away. Erik’s words sounded genuine and heartfelt. Charles wanted to believe him, but there was now a shade of skepticism in him for everything Erik said and did. Perhaps it was harsh of him, maybe it was fair, either way, it was there, and he couldn’t simply erase it from existence. He said nothing and could audibly hear Erik deflate as he remained quiet. Silence reigned over the room for a few long moments before Erik turned his attention to David. 

“I’m going to miss you. You take care of your papa, okay?” 

David innocently nodded in response. 

Charles glanced back over in time to see him place a kiss to the boy’s forehead before setting him back down on the floor. Erik spared him another long look, emotions Charles did not bother identifying clouding his eyes, before turning to leave. Charles closed his eyes and bit his lip as he felt that tugging in his chest, that longing that had not left. 

_I am resolute. This is the right thing to do. Here I plant my foot,_ he thought. 

That stoic resolve crumbled with Erik’s every step until finally, his cursed insanity took hold of him and made him act. 

“Wait.” 

The footsteps paused. Charles opened his eyes and looked up at Erik, who stared back expectantly and maybe hopefully. He racked his brain for something to say, not sure where to start or what to address: their mutual affections, Erik’s deception, Charles’ complicated history, the uncertain future, the now fraught past. 

“Have you talked to Anya?” He said, beginning in the easiest place he could. 

Erik’s eyebrows scrunched up. 

“She doesn’t want to speak with me.” 

“She’s afraid. She thinks you’re not coming back from this. Not so much that you’re planning to die, but that you don’t care if you do so long as you kill Sebastian Shaw. I can’t say I altogether disagree with her. I saw the duel in your memories. I’ve felt the anger and the pain that you feel about Ruth.” 

Erik stiffened but didn’t speak. 

“I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong. Sometimes, I’ve wondered if I could’ve done it, debated whether I could’ve killed Cain or Kurt if given a chance.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“I just… know you.” 

Charles pursed his lips, unsure if he wanted to dispute that claim or not before he continued. 

“I know you too, I think. I don’t believe everything was a front. I might not have known your true name, but I think I got to know your true nature, your heart. I know you love your children, but Anya seems to think it’s not enough. She thinks _she’s_ not enough to save you from your anger. That’s why she wants me to stay. She thinks if you fall in love with me, if you love me like you did her mother, it’ll make you… whole again.” 

Charles watched Erik absorb that, a complicated mixture of emotions playing across his face. 

“You need to talk to her before you leave, reassure her that nothing is more important to you than her and the twins.” 

“They’ll probably be better off with you, to be honest.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Erik. You’re their father. They need _you_ , not me. They want you. They love you. They need you to give them a reason to believe that you love them despite everything else that might get in the way, even if that thing is you. They need a reason to believe in you.” 

Charles looked down, aware that he might not just be talking about the children. 

“I want to come back, Charles. I love my children more than life itself. The idea of leaving them behind is abhorrent to me.” 

“Then what is it? What happened during that duel? You didn’t care about them, or the kingdom or yourself, all you cared about was revenge.” 

Erik shut his eyes as he spoke. 

“I have lost things before, as you know. But there was never anyone to blame. My mother was taken by illness, my wife by illness, my siblings who died in infancy were also taken by illness. But Ruth?” 

Charles clenched his teeth against the wave of grief and pain that washed the room. David made a disgruntled whining noise and Charles absentmindedly shielded him from the emotional turmoil. The sound seemed to shake Erik out of his internal musings. He opened his eyes, taking the room in before breathing deeply a few times. 

“After our mother died, Ruth would come to my room at night, crying, missing her. She looked so much like her even then. It hurt my father to see her and she felt ostracized by him and some of those at court who followed his example even though she was just a child. I told her as long as I lived, she would never be alone. I would always look out for her, I would never abandon her. I made a sacred vow. I got down on my knees in the castle’s synagogue and I made a vow before HaShem that I would never leave her, that I would protect her, that she would die old and warm after a long, happy life filled with children and grandchildren and a mate who loved her. I broke every single one of those vows. I failed her as an alpha, as a prince, as her brother. I didn’t fight hard enough for her. She begged me not to let Father send her away. I didn’t do enough, and she died. This time it wasn’t cruel circumstance or nature, she was taken from me. There was someone to blame. Maybe… maybe going after Shinobi wasn’t just about Ruth. Maybe it was about my mother too and Magda. Maybe it was years of pent up loss I had never managed to work through, but there was someone to take it out on. It felt good to exorcise those demons, to inflict that pain on someone else. I lost myself in that darkness and didn’t find my way out again until the damage was done.” 

Charles gazed at him, trying to gather himself. His heart was going wild, tugging and constricting with the urge to reach out and comfort the alpha, draw Erik’s nose into his neck and let his scent calm him, lull him into tranquility. Charles ignored the mad impulse and focused on what Erik had said. He often felt similarly about Raven. He could’ve done so many things differently, and if he had, they would be together now. His guilt was such that he blamed himself for things he knew were beyond his control. Similarly, he was sure Erik was being unfair to himself and didn’t shoulder as much blame for his sister’s death as he thought if he bore any at all. However, the succeeding duel was another matter. He had the right to seek recompense for his sister’s death, but his actions exacted the toll of Anya’s trust alongside his vengeance. Still, that said nothing of her love. 

Love could be just as strong a motivating factor as anger could. His father’s love built a home and foundation for Charles and Raven in their childhood, not their mother’s anger and apathy. David’s love pulled Charles back from the brink of the abyss, not his own anger at his marriage. It was his love for David that drove him to Genosha rather than giving in to his anger and returning to Salem to exact his revenge on the Markos. Erik was used to running on anger, on pain, on grief, on guilt. That was what was fueling him throughout this political conflict. Charles wondered if Erik remembered what it was like to be motivated by love. 

“When I was younger, me and my sister struggled with our Gifts. We used to only be able to use them when we were angry or sad or extremely happy—heightened states of emotion. My father would say true focus and control lies somewhere between rage and serenity. On their own, they may be good motivators, but when we accessed both in a conscious and controlled manner, we’d be able to do just about anything. He thought that what lay between those two extremes was love.” 

Charles stood up and approached Erik. 

“Can I…?” 

He reached up towards Erik’s head meaningfully and the alpha nodded. He closed his eyes and reached out with the tendrils of his telepathy, asking for permission to access Erik’s mind before stepping inside. He took a moment to appreciate the warmth and passion swirling around the corridors of thought but did not delve too deeply, lest he be caught up in the storm of aberrant emotion. Instead, he deftly searched for what he wanted, a simple memory he had seen in Anya’s head. 

Erik, Ruth, and Anya were seated at a table along with a man whom Charles recognized as King Jakob. The twins were on the king’s lap, both using their hands to devour a piece of cake, their first taste of something that sweet. The family was laughing contentedly at the twins. Anya looked up at her father with a happy expression, her gaze overwhelmingly delighted and shining with love despite the mundane moment. 

He let Erik see every other small and seemingly insignificant moment with him and Anya and the twins that might have seemed banal and negligible to him, but meant the world to the children, let him see their love for him and their care and what he was meant to be fighting for before he pulled back gently. 

“That…” 

“That is how your children see you. You are their hero. They adore you. You need to come back for them.” 

Charles reached out hesitantly and caressed Erik’s cheek. 

“There is so much more to you than you know. Not just pain and anger. There is good in you, I felt it. There is a love that can dominate any amount of hatred that wishes to drag you down with it. Use it to fight and get your home back, use it to survive. I’m not saying Shaw doesn’t deserve to pay. I cannot tell you that killing Shaw will bring you peace, but neither can I tell you that it is the wrong thing to do. All I can say is that your survival is the only thing that will give your kingdom and your children peace.” 

Erik nodded before looking into Charles’ eyes, reaching up to hold the hand Charles rested against his face. 

“Thank you for everything you have done for my children and for me.” 

“You don’t have to thank me. All you must do is live for your children… and for me. That’s all I ask,” Charles requested, more desperation than he wanted seeping into his voice. 

Erik nodded in reply, a look of grim determination on his face. He turned to go but paused by the door again, turning back to Charles. There was a look of great conflict on his face before it was replaced with resolve. 

“Charles, I must tell you before I go. I know that things will be difficult for you, no matter how all of this turns out. I want you to know you will always have a home in Genosha. I would be happy to host you and David at court for however long you want.” 

Charles stared at him, surprised. 

“I don’t want any charity,” he settled on. 

“It is not charity. You may look at it as atonement for what’s happened between us if you wish, but more than that, I care deeply for you, you must know that. I want you to be safe.” 

“I…,” he trailed off, not sure what to say. 

“I do not mean to press you.” 

“Then what is this? I don’t understand.” 

“It is simply an offer.” 

Charles’ expression shuttered closed. 

“I already told you I will not live my life as your mistress.” 

“I know. I will not insult you with propositions of concealed liaisons and back-alley dealings. You are worth far more than that. You are suited to the light and deserve to be no one’s secret. You are too brilliant for it. I do not want you to feel you must trade your morals or self-respect for bliss with me. If all I can expect you to accept from me is a roof over your head until you get on your feet and establish yourself in Genosha, that will do for me. I want the peace of mind of knowing you and David are safe, that is all. Don’t misunderstand me, if there is a chance for something more, I would not run from it. If there is any hope left to be found, if I have not torn it all asunder, you need only say the words and you would have me.” 

“Erik—” Charles exhaled sharply, as if the word was startled out of him, but the other man continued speaking. 

“Again, this is said with no expectations of amorous confession on your end. I know you have writ the whole matter off as sheer hysteria. Beyond the machinations of the heart, there did exist a friendly rapport between us born of similar interest, did there not?” 

“There did,” Charles admitted. 

That, however, left out the fact that their friendship had always been charged with their unspoken attraction to one another. 

“There is much to resolve between us and perhaps I am being selfish for asking you this, but it would gladden my heart to know you are near, even if it is just for a spell until you are able to confidently go on with your life.” 

Charles gazed into his familiar green orbs, still holding the same emotion Max did, the same appealing planes of his face, the same tantalizing scent, the same magnetic pull. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to say no. He didn’t know what he wanted. No, he did and he couldn’t have it. That made it all worse. He opened his mouth with the intention of refusing him, but what came out instead was, 

“There is always hope, Erik.” 

Perhaps it was foolish. Perhaps he was setting himself up for a hard fall by not severing this tie here and now. He did not even know what his own words meant, but he didn’t take them back or regret them. Erik seemed to have gleaned some deep understanding in them that Charles had not because something in his eyes shifted, became less cautious. 

The taller man stepped closer, invading his space for a long moment. Neither moved, their scents mingling and brushing against the other’s nose. There was a deep sense of longing and sorrow in Charles’ chest, something he had never felt before he innocently wandered his way into Logan’s inn. Heavens, if he had known he might find this feeling here, would he have hastened to come faster or run from it? 

Eventually, Erik came closer. Their breaths mingled as their lips brushed, not in a kiss but as a result of their proximity. Erik’s nose brushed against the tip of Charles’ then skimmed up his nasal arch and across his brow and his hair until the prince’s lips met his forehead. Charles shut his eyes against the tide of emotion the soft gesture inspired, unable to repress the shiver that went down his spine. 

He stayed there long after Erik left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a little with how exactly I wanted the conversation between Charles and Erik to end because I want Charles to have room to be upset and Erik to have room to be contrite but Erik may also die so Charles is not as harsh as he could be.


	13. The Battle for Krakoa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Shaw meet on the battlefield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: depictions of violence, death, animal death/injury in the fourth section of the chapter. Also, I suck at battle scenes so apologies in advance.

Erik stepped outside of Logan’s inn and took a deep breath of air, his body still keyed up and his head foggy from his exchange with Charles. He didn’t know where he got the temerity to ask Charles to join him in Krakoa, where he gathered the strength. Maybe it was the fact that for these past three days, he was more and more coming to realize that they were marching closer and closer to an ending of one kind or another. If he left things as they were, he’d never see Charles again. 

He tried to be okay with that initially. He held his head high as he marched into the village to meet with Emma, Azazel, Lord Helmut and the members of Alpha Flight, the team of mercenaries Logan had brought back with him. He was direct and perfunctory about setting battle strategies, fielding Emma’s curiosity, Lord Helmut’s blatant flirting, and the awkward period of getting acquainted with Alpha Flight. 

Erik focused firmly on getting himself ready for what was to come. Shaw would know he was coming, killing any element of surprise. They couldn’t bring the fight to the city. Erik was not willing to risk the lives of innocents, so he had already sent ahead to Shaw to meet him on the battlefield. There was a large clearing a few miles from the city that would act as their battleground. It was flat terrain so they would not be surprised by any hidden forces behind hills. That also gave less cover against cannon fire, but cannonballs had metal components, so he could do something about them. Regardless, they would do their best to destroy the cannons first. 

Azazel had seemed a little thrown by his demeanor and Emma kept giving him knowing looks, but he had ignored it in favor of professionalism. Lord Helmut had tried to get close to him, but he kept him at arm’s length, the veiled consideration for marriage never far from his mind. The lord had seemed disappointed but didn’t push.

There were only so many times he could go over the same plan repeatedly. There was nothing else to do but wait until it was time to leave. When he got on his horse, he would be riding towards Lord Shaw to finally end this nightmare he had been stuck in ever since his father announced his intent to marry Ruth off to Shinobi. He would also be leaving behind the dream of love he had found with Charles. Charles would stay at the inn with David for a while and then he would go off, exploring Genosha to find work. Maybe he would become a teacher or open that school his father had been trying to create. Maybe he would marry some alpha or beta who caught his eye and treated him like he deserved, with honesty and integrity. The idea of Charles with someone else did not sit right in his stomach, not after what they had shared. He couldn’t imagine it any more than he could imagine marrying Lord Helmut, no matter how much the omega batted his eyes at him suggestively.

Lord Helmut was not awful in truth. He was young and fair with a sharp jawline and wavy brunette hair. His scent was appealing. Despite the coy flirtation he immediately employed upon meeting Erik, he had a mind for battle, making suggestions for the calvary he was leading that made more sense given their terrain. His knowledge said much about his strength and prowess. Being an omega entrusted to command such a large army was a rare enough occurrence. He was a worthy political match, but he wasn’t Charles. Erik tried to avoid conversation not related to battle, but Lord Helmut managed to sneak a few minutes in. He learned he had a great affinity for the martial arts, praising the legislation that gave omegas the right to fight in combat. He enjoyed reading, hunting, horseback riding and playing the flute. Erik couldn’t care less. Before he met Charles, he might have given Helmut honest consideration, but where Charles felt like being bathed in the brightest and fullest sunbeams, Helmut felt like a single pale ray struggling unsuccessfully against storm clouds. It was through no fault of his own. He could not help that he was not who Erik wanted and Erik could not help that that truth rooted itself in his chest the more Lord Helmut tried to seek him out.

He could lie to himself all he wished, tell himself Charles would be better off without him, that in a few years this would all feel like a distant memory, that he would be able to banish thoughts of Charles’ scent, his smile, his kiss, his mind, his love, but the lie only stretched so far. Erik was not a man prone to forgetting and moving on. He did not let things go, he dwelled on his losses, he let wounds fester, and Charles would be an incredibly unique one indeed. Not a blow dealt to him by his enemies or cruel fate, but one he had inflicted on himself. He would not be able to go back to court life and forget Charles Xavier ever existed. He would always wonder if Charles was still on the island, if they could pass one another by happenstance on the street and rekindle what they lost, if Charles and David were safe and warm and fed, if the Markos managed to find them and drag them back to Westchester, if love would remain ever elusive to a man who felt as profoundly as Charles. 

So, on the third and last day, he approached Charles’ bedroom, armed with an apology and not much else. He was unsure what else he could say, not sure of the direction the conflicting storms in his heart and in his head was leading him. When he entered, Charles sat with his back to him, rifling through his bags. He turned slightly to pick something up and Erik was treated to the vision of his side profile bathed in the light pouring through the window. It made Charles’ brunette hair appear russet, his blue eyes shine brighter, and his skin glow. Erik stood there, trying to commit this image to memory, but his mind was not sharp enough to capture the precise redness of Charles’ lips, the proper curve of his nose, or the wit hidden behind his intelligent eyes. Besides which, any memory would pale in comparison to reality. He wanted him. HaShem keep and preserve him, but he didn’t want to leave him behind. Charles might have put their relationship down to madness, but Erik knew the truth. He didn’t have time just then to tell Charles everything and he suspected Charles wasn’t ready for him to lay himself bare before him again. Still, just a hint of hope, not even a promise, a whisper of it, it was enough to tide Erik over for now, assure him that he could see Charles after the battle if he played this right.

His lips tingled with the residual contact of Charles’ skin. He brushed his thumb across his mouth as he walked down the steps and made his way towards his saddled horse. He ran his hands through the mare’s hair and over her nose before casting around for Logan. He was not in sight, but Erik caught a flash of red hair peeking out from behind the stables. He leaned over and was able to catch Anya’s eye. He stepped away from the horse to begin walking towards the stable, stopping halfway there. He wanted to talk to her, but he also wanted this to be her decision. He gave her an inviting smile and she eventually left her perch, stopping about a foot away from him.

“You’re leaving now?” she asked.

“As soon as Logan is ready,” he confirmed.

Anya bit her lip, looking anywhere but at him.

“Good luck,” she said finally, her tone betraying how much more she wished to say.

Erik watched her for a moment.

“Can I tell you something?”

Anya gave him a curious look.

“When I was younger, about your age, my father went off to fight for the first time. I was terrified. I was worried about what would happen if he didn’t come back or if he was hurt. My mother told me not to fret, but it did no good. I locked myself in my room the day he was to leave and refused to see him off. He came to see me instead. He explained why he was leaving, why it was important that he, as king, fight for his people. He had a duty to fulfill to preserve the nation—all very good reasons. I didn’t care about any of it, I just wanted him to stay. Do you know what he told me?”

Anya shook her head in reply.

“He told me that every second of every minute of every hour of every day, I was in his head and in his heart. He told me I was the first person he thought of when he woke up and the last when he went to sleep. All he cared for was my safety and if it meant putting himself on the line for me, he would, because that’s what fathers do. It comforted me, but I couldn’t truly fathom what he meant, not until I had you.”

Erik closed the distance and got down on his knees in front of his daughter.

“When I first saw you, it was like the universe opened up. I never knew I could love someone so purely and instantly until I saw your face. I used to sit by your crib when you were a baby and watch you breathing. I’d put my fingers on your chest and count the beats of your heart and be amazed that I could love something and be so frightened of it at the same time. The idea of losing you is unthinkable. I will do anything to make sure you don’t leave this earth before me, even if it means going to battle. You and the twins are everything to me.” 

“I heard all the things you said to Lord Shinobi. You said there was nothing in the world that would stop you from killing him. Even if it meant you would die too, you’d do it happily to take him with you,” Anya answered tearfully.

Erik shook his head, disappointed in himself for letting it get that far, for letting Anya see it. He should’ve known she was close by, should’ve felt her bracelet, but he was too far gone.

“That day, that duel, I forgot myself. I lost sight of the thing that matters above all else: my family. I’m so sorry about that. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry that you ever doubted my love for you and your siblings. You are the reason I fight, the most important reason. I don’t want you to question that. I will come back from this battle. I’ll come back for you, for Wanda and Pietro, for Charles and David. I swear it.”

The tears fell down Anya’s eyes as she flung herself into his arms. Erik held her back tightly. He probably shouldn’t make promises, things were so fragile, but that was all the more reason for him to fight with everything he had.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

He pulled back from the hug and wiped her face clean of tears before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He was struck by an idea then. He pulled his wedding ring off his right hand, where he had moved it after Magda’s death, and placed it in Anya’s palm. He closed her fist around it and pressed a kiss to the folded digits.

“I have worn that ring ever since your mother placed it on my hand when we married eight years ago. Keep it safe for me until I come back.”

Anya nodded in reply, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll see you soon,” she said, more confidence in her voice but a lingering question still.

“You will. I don’t want you to worry. Make sure you help Charles with the twins and David. Don’t let him stay in his books for too long. You know how he is.”

“I’ll look out for everyone,” she answered with determination. 

Erik smiled at the tone of her voice.

“I leave them in your capable hands then.”

“I don’t like being patronized,” she shot back with a glare.

“Far be it from me. Let’s have a smile.”

Anya’s lips stretched into a grin and Erik answered with his own.

“There. This is the image I will take with me.”

Anya smiled wider before her gaze switched behind him. He glanced over his shoulder as Logan came trotting up on his horse.

“We ready?”

Erik nodded in reply. He gave Anya one last squeeze and then got on his horse, riding out beside Logan. 

He glanced back at the inn which had been his prison, his refuge, and ultimately his haven these past few weeks. He felt a part of him might miss this place even though he was happy to return home. This inn had led him to Charles. It may always have a special place in his heart.

He took a deep breath and looked forward, refocusing himself on the task at hand. There was no time for melancholy, he had to be battle-ready, calm, level-headed. He had people waiting for him. He would not let them down.

**~*~*~**

A strange feeling filled Erik as he rode towards Krakoa.

This was hardly the first time he had ridden into battle. It wasn’t even the first time he had had to reclaim an entire city. He had gotten his first kills defending Lensberg as the city had no natural borders and marauders made a habit of invading it and the surrounding areas. Still, there was an odd sense of anticipation thrumming through his veins. It wasn’t the anxiety and eagerness that he usually felt proceeding a battle, it wasn’t even the thirst to get the kill he had been craving, it was more of a desperate need to get this over with as soon as he could. There was so much to be done. He had to assess the state of the capital after being in Shaw’s hands for so long, the coffers would have to be checked, the city’s defenses rebuilt and the castle renovated. First, there would have to be funeral rites for his father and he would have to have a shiva house prepared for himself and the children when they returned so they could mourn. There would also be remembrances for those others killed by Shaw sacking the city. Then he would have to turn his attention to Charles.

However, the battle had to come first. Erik glanced behind him where marched his forces, footmen and mounted knights numbering six hundred, a third of which were Sokovian. Sean was about a half a day’s ride behind him with 50 fighters from Lensberg and Heather was only a quarter of a day’s ride behind him with another 50 from Alkali City. At the same time, Elizabeth had already set up camp not far from the battlefield with her 100 Briton soldiers and Warren’s 200 Silverthorne soldiers. That gave him 250 more men than Shaw had. Erik wanted to use his numbers effectively. There was no point in wasting lives by throwing them at Shaw’s forces to needlessly overwhelm them, nor was there a point in lining up his soldiers to shoot at each other and kill one another unnecessarily. Shaw may even have Krakoan soldiers fighting for him, voluntarily or not. They were also Erik’s people and he wanted casualties to be as minimal as possible. 

He was slightly puzzled at his own sentiments. A few months ago, he would have approached this battle with much more heat. He would have taken a scorched earth approach, killing any soldier between himself and Shaw as a traitor. That didn’t serve him in the long run. He had made promises and assurances to the living. He couldn’t break those for vows already broken to the dead. They had a plan, it was just a matter of executing it. Still, he had to keep to tradition, so he would meet Shaw to try to make a final negotiation before the battle. He would rather engage Shaw head-on and get it over with, but he would not have his victory contested.

“You look troubled, my friend,” Azazel said, moving his horse to trot a step behind him.

“Well, these are troubling times,” Erik replied, a shade of sarcasm to his voice.

“Indeed,” Azazel conceded.

“Shaw might be powerful, but he isn’t as good of a strategist as you, can’t inspire loyalty as you do. We have the people’s confidence. We need only show them it is not misplaced.”

Erik nodded his head in reply.

“But that isn’t what has been bothering you these past few days, is it?”

Erik cast a questioning glance back at Azazel. He nodded his head towards the Sokovian lord behind them, riding close to his men. 

“I’ve spent my time in Sokovia vetting him as much as trying to convince Lord Heinrich to cooperate.”

“I hardly asked you to.”

“No, you didn’t, but as I was there, it seemed prudent.”

“And?”

“He is not hard on the eyes,” Azazel commented.

“No, I suppose not.”

“He would bring a lot to the marriage: a sizable dowry, a larger army than any other city outside of the capital, several disputed lands.”

“He would.”

“He doesn’t mind the children. He would be happy to play stepfather to them. All in all, he is the kind of match your council would salivate over. Yet, I have the distinct feeling you couldn’t be less interested, and it also strikes me that it may have little to do with your aversion to a political marriage.”

Erik glanced at the red-skinned man out of the corner of his eye.

“Have you been talking to Emma?”

“Would she tell me something that would confirm my suspicions?”

Erik restrained an eyeroll and a groan. The lady knight had been almost obnoxiously quiet, but she had taken to giving Erik these increasingly smug looks. He hadn’t felt her in his head sniffing around, but he was almost certain she knew what happened between him and Charles.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes.”

“It’s complicated,” Erik answered around a sigh.

Azazel nodded silently before studying Erik carefully.

“Who are they?”

Erik cast a look around to see if anyone was listening. They were a few feet ahead of the rest of the party.

“His name is Charles. He is the Westchesterian lodger at Logan’s inn I was telling you about, the one Anya befriended.”

“The one who arrived in disgrace?”

“He is not dishonorable in the least. He has been most ill-treated by those he called family and fled for his life. He is brilliant in truth: intelligent, understanding, empathetic. His views match mine where it counts and for the points on which we disagree, he argues his side well. He is far above me in all the ways I care about, but below me as far as society sees it.”

“Is it truly so?”

“He is divorced and has a child. I feel he could win over the people. The ideas he has, he would gain their trust and respect, their love I expect. He is not Jewish, but he wouldn’t be the first Protestant mate of a Genoshan ruler and he is always eager to learn new things, including about our religion. He also wouldn’t be the first prince consort to be foreign-born, but it would be harder for him to gain the respect of the court.”

“It was hard for Magda to gain their respect as well. It was hard for your mother. It was hard for your grandfather. It is hard for any ruling sovereign’s mate. If they are not viewed as the enemy, they are seen as an inroad to befriend the crown or undermine it. Magda thought you were worth the hassle, does this Charles think the same?”

“I don’t know. As I said, it is complicated. We left off in a strange place. There is still much to decide and talk about. I hardly know how I feel about him on most days.” 

“You do know. I know and I haven’t even seen you with him, so you must know as well.”

“How could you know?”

“It’s the look on your face. You had a similar look when it was you and Magda struggling to overcome expectations and remain together. If I remember correctly, it seemed an impossibility back then, but now you have Anya and the twins as proof that you were willing to defy the odds. So why not now as well?”

“I had much less responsibility then.”

“And less power too, but you managed to defy the most powerful man in the land. Granted, he was your father, but that never stopped him from doing as he will with you. I watched you fight for her, I watched you hurt for and with her, and I knew your love was true, otherwise the idea of losing her wouldn’t have upset you so much. I can see that same fear in your eyes now. On the one hand, I’m glad that you have found love again. Without it, I fear your heart gets too hard. You put too much armor around yourself. On the other, I know you’ll face an uphill battle with this one. However, I have confidence in you. No one can say that you have not always done what is best for Genosha, Erik. I trust you to make the right decision for yourself and the country.”

“Thank you, my friend. Your words help ease my troubled mind,” Erik nodded back gratefully.

“Good, because you can’t take that trouble with you on the battlefield. Shaw will sniff it out and use it against you.”

“He will,” Erik agreed, pushing Charles aside for now. It would be there when he got back.

“What do you expect Shaw will do?” Azazel asked.

“I expect he’ll put on a show of trying for reconciliation at our meeting, tell the realm I blew up in some hot-headed action to continue perpetuating his propaganda about me. It matters little. He’ll be dead soon. What’s left is to clean up the mess he left behind.”

Azazel nodded in return.

“We’ll finish this, once and for all, for Genosha, for King Jakob, for Ruth.”

“For Ruth.”

**~*~*~**

Although it was spring, the clearing was overcast as Erik sat on his horse awaiting Shaw’s host to meet them for last peace negotiations. He worried if it would rain or not, it would make the terrain muddy, make fighting more difficult but there was little he could do to stop that. His horse nattered a bit, throwing her head back in agitation, probably from the tense atmosphere as he, Azazel, Emma, Lord Helmut, and the commanders of the other armies waited. He patted her neck soothingly, stretching his powers to be sure nothing was pulled too tightly that was causing her discomfort. He was distracted by an ominously familiar, unique metallic signature. Shaw’s helmet. He glanced up as the party made their way into the clearing.

Shaw was leading five men, three of them from the Hellfire estate along with Lord Stryker and Lord Wyngarde of Genosha’s council of twelve. Traitors.

“Those are your councilmen, aren’t they?” Lord Helmut asked needlessly.

“I’ll deal with them later,” Erik replied as Shaw stopped his horse.

Their eyes met across the chasm between them. Erik remembered Shaw’s face when the prince collected Ruth’s body: the fake sympathy, the false innocence and concern, the charade of grief for his daughter-in-law. He had wanted to kill him then and there, but his hatred for Shinobi had been greater, so he was the target. He should’ve cut them both out root and stem. A self-satisfied smirk alighted Shaw’s face as if he could read Erik’s thoughts.

“My dear prince, it’s been much too long. The capital has missed you terribly. We were all so very worried for your safety. After all, I had hoped this transition of power would be as peaceful and bloodless as possible.”

Erik glared wordlessly at the lord. Shaw turned his gaze to Lord Helmut.

“Thank you for returning the _former_ prince. Now, all that you and your illustrious companions must do is get off your horses, surrender your armies and kneel before me. Proclaim me as the true and rightful king of Genosha.”

Erik glanced out of the corner of his eye. To his credit, Lord Helmut remained stone-faced and unmoved by the pretender king’s orders.

“Come now, _Lord_ Lehnsherr, it is the best offer you could hope to receive. I will pardon you all for treason against the crown. I will even proclaim that Lady Anya is to be my heir upon my death. She will, of course, be brought back to the capital to be raised in the manner I see fit. It is only fair. A child for a child.”

“Your son was not worth the dirt beneath my daughter’s shoe, much less my sister’s hand in marriage. You allowed your spawn to beat my sister until she died.” 

“This baseless accusation you have seen fit to perpetuate will only show the world how paranoid you truly are. I have said it before, I will say it again. It is not my fault, nor my son’s, that your sister’s lover killed her.” 

Erik bared his teeth in anger at the man’s false allegation. He wanted to jump off his horse and challenge Shaw outright. The need flared in his chest. He could feel his alpha spirit batting against his ribcage, the call to excise his grievance against his enemy nearly choking him, like bile in his throat. The image of Anya smiling crossed his mind suddenly, of Pietro and Wanda running hand in hand through the high meadows near Logan’s inn, of David gathering blueberries in his little hands and giggling when the globes tumbled to the forest floor, of Charles bathed in firelight staring at Erik with pleased amusement during one of their chess games. He could not give in to his anger. He made promises that he had to keep. It took a moment of deep breathing, but eventually he was able to respond. 

“You know the truth just as well as I. Anyone who knew Ruth knows that your claim of some clandestine affair was the most ludicrous fiction you could have invented to cover up your son’s crime. You can no more feign ignorance to what happened in your home than any other man with eyes in his head. If you can, then you are a fool and not fit for the throne, a throne which you stole, exacting the cost of my father’s life and countless other Krakoan citizens.”

“And you care? Where have you been? Certainly not with your citizens who you claim to love so much. You tucked tail, turned your back, and ran. What sort of an alpha are you, boy?” Lord Stryker said. 

Erik had never liked him. He had a strange fascination with the Gifted and after some unsavory business regarding his son, Erik wanted to be rid of him, but his father dallied. He would not miss the man, nor Lord Wyngarde. There were a few other council members he would be happy to dispatch, but these two would do for now and serve as examples.

“I suppose you’ll find out the kind of alpha I am tomorrow, won’t you? There is only one sentence for treason, Lord Stryker. I suggest you pray to whichever higher power will have you.”

Shaw chuckled unpleasantly then.

“Honestly, what sense is there in battle? You have the men and the horses, but you don’t have the city. The council doubts you, your people doubt you, the very country doubts your legitimacy and fitness to rule. Get off your horse and kneel. Save us all the trouble of sending a few hundred poor souls to slaughter. I am a man of mercy.”

Erik sneered at the very notion.

“Now, if you want to salvage a chance for your bloodline to survive—”

“You’re going to die tomorrow, Lord Shaw. If you wish to follow him into the arms of death, Lords Stryker and Wyngarde, be my guest. Genosha has no room for opportunistic traitors anyway. I suggest you all sleep soundly and deeply tonight. It will be the last time you have the chance,” Erik announced before turning his horse and kicking its side to set it off.

“In the morning then, my lord!” Shaw called out behind him. 

Erik took a deep fortifying breath.

Come sunrise, this would end.

**~*~*~**

On the outskirts of the capital city of Krakoa, the Lehnsherr and Shaw armies sat across the battlefield from one another. Erik rode his horse through the ranks, looking over his forces: his mounted soldiers, his footmen, his artillerymen, those Gifted with the ability of flight who hovered above it all. Across the battlefield, Erik could only assume Shaw’s ranks were in a similar formation. A thick fog had rolled over the grounds, not at all seasonable for spring. He could believe it was not natural. 

“Can’t see a damned thing through this fog,” Lord Helmut commented by his side.

Erik scanned the battleground for caltrops or any other devices meant to hinder a cavalry charge but found nothing. The fog in and of itself would hinder both armies and lead to more deaths, but there was nothing for it. 

Just as he thought that a pathway opened and revealed Shaw, Lord Wyngarde, and… his father. He looked awful, even from this distance. He was pale and gaunt and could barely stand on his own. Shaw clutched on to his right arm in a tight grip, causing his father to squirm in pain. Erik gripped his horse’s reins, almost riding out into the field unprotected when Emma’s voice sounded in his head.

_“Whatever you’re seeing, it isn’t real, my prince. It’s Lord Wyngarde, his illusions.”_

Erik blinked and his father was gone. He shook his head, glancing to the side as several dozen soldiers began riding into the thick fog. Lord Helmut made to ride out, but Erik gripped his horse’s metal armor, stopping him in his tracks.

_“Emma, Elizabeth, place a net as large as you can to protect from psionic attacks.”_

He could feel the combined touch of their unique telepathic abilities in his head. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, but the agitated soldiers began to calm down.

“None of your tricks, Shaw, challenge us like a true alpha, not some charlatan!” Erik shouted across the space. 

Shaw smirked and the fog closed in, obscuring him once more.

For a long while, the field was quiet, the only sound the gunfire and shouts from within the fog from the men who had ridden ahead, drawn out by Wyngarde’s illusions before that sound died down.

_“Emma, what are they planning?”_

_“They can’t shoot ahead. Despite their little ploy with this fog, they can’t see any more than we can. They’re going to charge,”_ Emma advised after a moment.

_“Then we’ll meet them.”_

He gave the signal and orders began ringing out.

“Prepare to charge! Prepare to charge!”

“Calvary, prepare!”

Erik took a deep breath. He could hear the thundering hooves of hundreds of horses making their way towards them through the fog, could make out the silhouettes. He glanced at Azazel a few men down and the two shared a nod.

“Calvary, charge!”

He watched the first wave ride ahead of him, Azazel leading them into the unknown terrain. He heard clashing, horses neighing in distress, guns firing, blades crossing, men shouting, but the fog obscured the view. All he could feel with his powers were indiscriminate swords, shields, armor, and guns.

“How long are we to hold back, my prince?” Bobby asked, anxious to join the fray. 

Erik surveyed the scene once more before nodding at Bobby.

“Second, prepare to advance!”

“Good luck, Your Highness. Fight well,” Lord Helmut said beside him, securing his helm. 

Erik nodded before giving the order.

“Advance!”

His horse lurched forward beneath him, kicking up dirt and mud as they galloped forward. He held his sword in one hand, the metal singing to him along with that of the arrow strapped to his thigh and the armor stretched across his muscles. He preferred this to a gun. These weapons felt more like extensions of his powers and he could control them better. 

It was difficult to see anything, but the clashing of his forces into the fray was nearly deafening. Horses ran headlong into each other, sending their riders flying in both directions, arms flailing, weapons thrown aloft. Mud and grass sailed through the air from the collisions, painting their armor brown instantly. Soldiers on both sides were dying in the frenzy. 

Erik gathered himself quickly, ducking flying swords and bodies while deflecting stray musket balls and rifle bearings. A flailing horse came careening towards him. He used his powers to push it off his path, sending the horse tumbling into several of Shaw’s men, crushing them beneath the weight. A dagger sailed its way through the melee towards him. Erik stopped it in its tracks and sent it back to the soldier who had thrown it, before turning to engage with several footmen attempting to unhorse him. He sent two flying across the field and cut down the third without mercy. A fourth held up his rifle, intent on shooting Erik. He sent the round flying backward through the barrel, darting out of the butt of the gun into the man’s head. 

Even as he fought, striking with his sword, his arrow, and his Gift, he tried to keep a constant awareness of Shaw’s helmet to always know where he was on the battlefield. The line of sight was marginally better within the fog. He had no clue where Azazel or Logan or his commanders were, but he needed to take some semblance of control. He gripped the reins of his horse, retreating from the densest of the fighting so he could survey the battle and act accordingly. Riding towards the rear, he screamed at each arriving line of reinforcements, now mostly infantry from Alkali City along with Alpha Flight. He waved them forward, shouting orders and pointing towards what weaknesses and gaps he could make out. 

Just as he ordered Warren to take his airborne fighters to defend their weakened left flank, he found himself in danger. He jerked in surprise as the ground beneath his horse’s back legs suddenly began to shift, pulling them down. His horse neighed in fright, trying to fight the ground which sucked them in. Erik cast around frantically, catching sight of a woman holding out her hand towards them. She was too far away from his sword. He reached out to his metal arrow, lifting it off his thigh to hover midair before sending it straight towards her. It went through her chest with ease, killing her instantly. He turned his attention towards his horse, intent on pulling her out of the muck when she suddenly let out a pained cry before going limp and falling over. Erik managed to narrowly avoid being crushed by her dead weight. He looked down to see she had been shot in the eye and cursed, standing up so he was not trampled in the chaos. 

He grabbed a shield off the ground, felt for his arrow and tightened his grip on his sword. He could feel Shaw was close, he just needed to find him. He ran forward, dodging several horses galloping past him. A cavalryman charged towards him on horseback. He merely flicked his fingers, sending the man flying across the battlefield while the horse continued. He rushed forward and sliced the neck of a man in Hellfire livery before cutting another open across the torso. 

Loud bangs began to fill the battlefield. Cannons. Shaw, the madman. He was going to kill his own men shooting into the fog like this. Erik took a deep breath and held his hand towards the sky, blindly stopping the incoming metal bombs. He grunted from the effort but held firm. He could feel the flying artillery stop, hovering in place before he sent them back across the battlefield towards Shaw’s machinery and artillerymen.

His focus was on the heavy machinery, so he was surprised when a musket ball hit the top of his left shoulder. He grunted and rounded on the man who was charging at him with the blade-end of his bayonet. The metal came flying at his head and he ducked quickly. A horseman was riding up behind the man. Erik dodged out of the way of the strike from the incoming man while his opponent didn’t prove as lucky. Erik hovered a hand over his shoulder, feeling the round lead lodged against the bone within. It had broken flesh but hadn’t hit bone thankfully.

Before he could remove the musket ball, he reeled as a sudden force sent him stumbling a few feet back into the path of several horses. Erik quickly reached out for every bit of metal he could find and sent the horses in another direction. He jumped up, gritting his teeth in annoyance and anger. Ten of Shaw’s men were running towards him, bayonets at the ready. He sneered in reply, lifting his metal arrow up and sending it towards the men, killing them one by one. He kept his arrow aloft, striking down any man who got in his way on his quest to find Shaw or using the metal on their person to throw them, crush them or send them to the ground to be trampled.

There was a great roaring building up over the battlefield. There was the clashing of swords, the sounds of musket and rifle fire, the whistling of arrows and ball bearings through the air, the sound of shields meeting armor, blasts from the Gifted soldiers, flyers swooping past. The din was growing louder and louder, all but deafening.

 _“Shaw’s about to blow!”_ Emma warned in his head.

“Find cover!” Erik shouted, gripping onto as many metal pieces as he could, shields, swords, armor from fallen men and horses. He built it up in front of himself and ducked his head. 

The blow that came a few moments later was expected but no less powerful, only not knocking him off his feet due to his shield wall. He grunted as the metal rippled, nearly losing concentration as men, women, and horses around him were propelled back off their feet. The ground was ripped up, flinging mud and dirt flying past his helmet into his face. He ripped his helm off, rubbing the dirt away from his eyes. He glanced around himself quickly, assessing the new terrain. The fog was mostly clear now, Shaw’s blast having scattered the offending smog, giving Erik a clear view of the battlegrounds. Nearly everyone was brought to the floor from the force of Shaw’s blast wave. Some were moving, others were not.

_“Emma? Elizabeth?”_

He glanced beside him as Elizabeth hovered down to the ground clutching a diamond-encrusted Emma by her side, her purple energy dissipating as they touched the ground followed soon by Warren, holding Mortimer. Azazel appeared in a cloud of red and sulfur by his other side, his teeth bared, with Bobby, Sean and Heather transported alongside him, and the Summers brothers appearing as well. 

Erik nodded to himself, glad to have his Brotherhood by his side. He shifted the metal from in front of him and looked out across the devastation. Shaw hadn’t just blasted Erik’s army but his own. He stood alone surrounded by mounds of soldiers knocked unconscious, too disoriented to fight, or dead.

“Eleven on one, Erik? Hardly a fair fight,” he called across the field, walking towards them across the bodies.

“Because you care so much for fairness. If you did, you would’ve never left my sister to your son’s mercy.”

Shaw shrugged, seemingly not caring to continue the lie.

“Shinobi was always a peculiar boy. I lifted him up from bastardry, legitimized him, and he let it get to his head. Annoying to always feed so undeserved an ego, so I admit I often left him to his devices, let him play with his toys until he would bring their broken bodies to me like a cat bringing a dead bird to its owner. An apt analogy. Little, darling Ruth. A beautiful bird that you caged up in that big palace of yours, never let her see the world. It’s no wonder it broke her. Blame yourself for that, blame our dearly departed king, blame my son. I’m hardly to blame.”

“Maybe so. But you did attack the city, killed civilians and my father. For that alone, I’d have no mercy to spare for you.”

“Then show me. If you’re alpha enough to take my son, let’s see how you and your little merry band measure up to me.”

Alex ran forward first, sending a blast of red energy towards Shaw, which he absorbed easily, but it was enough of a distraction for Elizabeth to strike, flying through the air to attack Shaw just as Erik sent his swords and daggers flying towards him as well. Elizabeth struck down at Shaw with her large blade and a small blast from Shaw sent her and the projectiles back, but the others continued forward, attacking Shaw with all they had. Alex and Scott sent strategic blasts his way as did Sean and Bobby. At the same time, Elizabeth and Warren attacked him from the air. Mortimer and Heather jumped in, getting licks in where they could, and Azazel teleported in, attacking Shaw as his back was turned. Erik sent metal projectiles his way ever so often but was more interested in the others keeping Shaw distracted so he did not suspect their plan. 

He could see Shaw getting charged up from the continuous energy being thrown his way, could see him smirk as he got ready to blow.

“Fall back!” Erik called out, moving to stand beside Bobby just as he created an ice barrier to protect them along with Heather and Emma from the blast. It hit them in a gust of wind, pushing more dirt and debris their way. Bobby held strong against the force, barely moved by it even as cracks formed in his shield. 

He could see Shaw through the near translucent material, could see him slightly bent over his knees, his body recuperating from expending all that energy. He glanced over at Heather, nodding at her to strike now. She held out her hands towards the recovering alpha and Erik watched in fascination as the debris falling back to the earth around the man slowed down, as did the man himself, his hand moving in slow motion, the movement of his hair nearly ceasing.

“I can’t hold him long,” Heather advised. 

“You don’t have to,” Azazel answered, teleporting over to Shaw and unceremoniously taking the helmet off his head.

“I’ve got him,” Emma advised, prompting Heather to drop her hands, allowing time to resume its pace, although Shaw remained frozen.

Erik approached the immobilized man. Shaw was staring at him with an indeterminate look on his face. Erik wanted to say it was fear, but he couldn’t tell.

“Is he in there?”

“He is, but he’s strong. I can’t hold him for long,” Emma answered, her voice already strained.

“I want you to know that once this is done, once you’re dead, I will put all of this to rest. I will not stay up at night cursing you and your son. I will not think of you in my darkest hours. I will move on, secure in the knowledge that you and your ilk have paid for what you took from me, from this world. Your death could never erase your actions, it will never amount to Ruth’s life or my father’s. I suppose some will say I am acting out of vengeance rather than justice. I suppose they are right. Maybe my actions up until now have been wrong. Maybe I’ve gone too far in some respects. Maybe I have let this need consume me, blot out all sense. Perhaps I will be venerated, lauded, if I take you back to Krakoa alive and execute you in front of the people. That may even be the right thing to do, the noble thing.”

Erik stepped closer to the crater Shaw stood in, narrowing his eyes as some indiscernible emotion bled into the man’s eyes.

“But, unfortunately for you, you killed my sister. Maybe she didn’t die by your hand, but she was killed by your inaction as surely as she was by your son’s abuse. So there will be no trial. There will be no grand show of whipping you through the streets. Your death will not be some long drawn out thing, giving you time to think up soliloquies you can bequeath onto the masses in a last-ditch attempt to undermine my rule.”

Erik levitated his adamantium arrow and lined it up with Shaw’s head.

“I will end this now. I will banish you from this earth and the hatred that came with you from my mind and my heart. I will live for my kinsmen and my kingdom, for my children and for love and let every bit of the poison that has infected me these past two years die with you. This, I swear in the sight of HaShem.”

He held his fist up, holding the arrow steady before opening his palm and sending it flying straight through Shaw’s skull, killing him instantly.

The man dropped to the floor after a moment, dead. Unbidden, a tear fell down his face as the great weight that had been settled on his chest shifted. It didn’t go away, but he could breathe easier, could think clearer. He could see an end now, a door closing.

He thought of Ruth, young and vivacious and full of life, thought of all she didn’t get to do and all the ways he failed her. He hoped this meant something to her, wherever she was.

_Rest in peaceful slumber, my dear one. Rest and know you are forever loved and those who snuffed your light out have been struck down._


	14. A Council Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik arrives at Krakoa and has an interesting conversation with one of his councilors.

Erik sat atop his horse, staring at the gates of Krakoa. They were damaged with several signs of having been aflame and battered during Shaw’s attack on the city. He was not sure what to expect when the gates opened. He had already sent word ahead to expect him along with the bodies of Lord Shaw and Lord Wyngarde. Lord Stryker was along too, now a prisoner riding near the back of Erik’s small entourage. Many of the armies who aided him already marched home, saving their commanders who stayed for the customary gratitudes. He wondered how the people had been faring. Had Shaw been unleashing all his sadistic tendencies on them rather than have them spill out into the rest of the kingdom, or had he spared them for the sake of his propaganda? Did they know Erik was coming back now? Would the people greet him with scorn for leaving or welcome him back as their rightful ruler?

The gates began to open slowly and he took a deep breath. He lifted his chin, flexed the fingers of his left arm where it sat in a sling from the musket injury, and sat up tall in anticipation. He guided his horse forward as the gates opened fully. He trotted through the streets and could see more signs of the attack: a burnt-out shop here, a vacant vendor’s stall there, sword slashes, bullet holes and evidence of Gifts marring the facades of buildings. He would have to make sure the city recovered fully from this attack and was no worse for wear for it.

The commonfolk moved to the side as he passed. A ripple began to go through the crowd as they realized it was him. The commotion started off small, a few people calling out to him, some waving and others smiling. Then citizens began throwing flowers in his path and from their windows, showering the procession in multicolored petals. The cheers started picking up, declarations of fealty and happiness at his return ringing through the congregation. Erik relaxed, banishing his previous apprehension. He put on a smile for the crowd, waving and shouting greetings back to those he recognized. It was as if the entire city had come out to welcome him.

By the time he reached the palace, it was clear the commotion had alerted them to his presence. The Genoshan council of twelve, now ten, stood in the courtyard awaiting him along with several of the courtiers. Erik had not chosen any of the council, save two. Many of the members were in their forties or older, having been appointed by his father. The eldest, Lady Paloma Proudstar, had been elected by his grandmother when she ruled Genosha after she had forged a peace between the crown and the Apache tribes of the coastal plains who lived on the island long before Erik’s ancestors landed here. The only people Erik had recommended were Lord Janos Quested and Lady Amelia Voght, two Gifted individuals who proved themselves to Erik through their intuitiveness. 

Once he was crowned, he would have the chance to choose which councilmembers he wanted to keep on and who to let go. Besides which, there were two vacant slots open thanks to Wyngarde and Stryker’s betrayal. Erik knew where he wanted to take Genosha. The current council of twelve had only three Gifted members, two of them resulting from Erik’s lobbying. There were also no omegas. That wasn’t unheard of. Many balked at the idea of an omega owning any property, much less making the decisions necessary to run a country, but it wasn’t something that had never happened in Genosha. Erik didn’t want a council of yes-men who would do and say everything he wanted and never tell him when he was wrong, but filling it with traditionalist Non-Gifted alphas didn’t reflect what Genosha was and what it could be. Erik would change that.

Lord Winston Frost, the head of the council, stood at the fore of the group. His position was primarily due to his being one of the richest men in Genosha, if not the richest. That wasn’t to say he was unintelligent or not shrewd, it was just the opposite. Erik’s quarrels with the man mainly had to do with his reaction to Magda. Frost was overly conservative and been outspoken about their marriage, but he and Erik worked well together for the betterment of Genosha. Behind him stood the others, including Lord Norton McCoy, Lady Elaine Grey, Lady N’Dare Monroe, Lord Nathaniel Essex, Lord Bolivar Trask, and Lord Mikhail Rasputin. Rabbi Elisha, the designated spiritual liaison between the church and crown, was also present.

As he dismounted his horse, careful of his injured shoulder, those in the courtyard bowed or curtsied accordingly, greeting him as the prince and not yet the king as he not been crowned.

“Your Highness, we are all pleased to see you return safely and victoriously. And may I be the first to offer condolences for the loss of the king,” Lord Winston said, his eyes flickering over to Emma briefly but not letting any emotion show one way or the other about his daughter’s safe return.

Erik nodded in reply. Realistically, he knew his father was gone, but having the confirmation did send a jolt of grief rippling through him. It was a dull thing, not hot like it was with Ruth. Shaw was already dead, there was nothing else to do about that.

“Thank you, my lord. Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha’olam, dayan ha-emet,” he said, reciting the traditional blessing upon receiving this news.

“We will mourn him accordingly once I send for my children. We shall meet an hour from now after I get settled.”

He turned to several of the guards posted at the gates.

“Sir Armando, Lady Callisto, please bring Lord Stryker to the dungeons to await judgment. Have a guard posted at his cell at all times. Rabbi Elisha, I leave the bodies of the traitors, Lord Shaw and Lord Wyngarde, in your capable hands.”

“Ms. Pryde,” he continued, turning to Teresa Pryde, the head of the palace staff, lingering by the palace doors alongside young Kitty.

“Please have rooms and baths prepared for our guests. Meals as well if they request it.”

The beta woman curtsied and went off into the palace with her daughter following close behind. Erik gave one last perfunctory nod of dismissal to all in the courtyard before making his way into the castle, seeking out his bedroom and a moment to collect himself.

His room didn’t appear to be any different as he entered it. The décor was still done up in burgundy and deep purple, the colors of his house. His large poster bed remained where it had always been with the mahogany chest by its foot. His room was immaculately clean, just how he preferred it. He would’ve expected Shaw to have turned it over or burned it or something of that caliber. He walked over to his wardrobe, but all his clothing seemed to be there. He continued his inspection of the room, but nothing turned up out of place. After all that had happened, it felt odd to come back here and find nothing had changed. He would’ve expected the earth to move or several seismic shifts to have occurred. At the very least, a candle could be out of place to show time had been moving while he was away.

He shook his head and went over to his bed, lying back with a deep sigh, grimacing as it jostled the sensitive wound on his shoulder. The surface of the mattress, softer than anything Logan’s inn had to offer, was welcome support. He wondered what Charles and the children were doing, if Logan had already made it back to them yet, if they knew the battle was won.

Erik’s hand went to his chest, resting over his heart. The tugging that usually made itself known when he was near Charles was edging on painful lately. He wished he were here, by his side, within reach. Then he reminded himself that Charles probably didn’t want him to touch him ever again. Maybe he wouldn’t even accompany the children back to the capital, refusing Erik’s offer. Perhaps that last conversation was goodbye and Charles was letting him down easy. That didn’t feel true, but it was a possibility.

If he did come and he agreed to stay with him, Erik would have to discuss with him what that would look like for them. On top of that, he needed to find a way to spin this to get his council on board and he had to appease Lord Heinrich, who would be offended that Erik turned down a son of Genosha for a foreigner of questionable virtue. He found that he was determined to find a way. He didn’t know what it was that lit a fire underneath him. Maybe it was the knowledge that Shaw was dead. He had a lot more time to devote to other things now, important things.

Erik laid there for a long while, contemplating the future, before he roused himself. He stepped into the hallway and flagged down a serving girl to have a bath drawn for him. Once it was brought, he washed quickly and changed into clean clothes before heading down to the council chambers. The ten members were already waiting once he stepped inside and moved to the head of the table.

“My lords, my ladies, let’s call this meeting to order,” he greeted.

“I know it’s already been said, but we are ever so glad to have you return and put this business with the Shaws behind us,” Lord Norton said.

If it were anyone else, he’d believe the man to be obsequious, but the McCoys were an earnest sort.

“Agreed. I assume you have been to the court physician already and he has cleared you medically,” Lady Elaine asked in a maternal tone. 

She had been a good friend to his mother and always looked out for Erik when he was growing up. It was part of the reason he had gotten close enough to Jean to employ her as his personal spy.

“I have had medics look it over. It is inconsequential.”

Lady Elaine pursed her lips in disdain.

“Still, I’m sure I don’t speak alone when I say it would inspire confidence for our new king to be cleared by the court physician,” she pushed.

Lord Norton nodded beside her and Lord Janos, Lady Amelia, and Lady N’Dare murmured agreements. Erik restrained a sigh and nodded.

“If it would assuage your worries, my lady, it shall be done after the meeting is adjourned.”

Lady Elaine nodded in satisfaction and let the matter drop.

“We still have quite a bit of organizing, but Shaw’s death does take a weight off our shoulders. What will be done with his lands and holdings?” Lord Mikhail asked, ever the businessman.

“They should be turned over to the crown,” Lord Nathaniel said in his usual haughty tone. 

Erik had no intention of allowing him to remain on the council, Gifted or not. He, like Stryker, had an unnatural, scientific fascination with both Gifted and Non-Gifted individuals. Erik could prove nothing, but he was loathed to allow the man to remain in such a high position.

“His business ventures range far and wide throughout the kingdom, not just at Hellfire or Krakoa,” Lady Amelia pointed out.

“Several of his books can be turned over to the ruling lords who aided our cause, granted the business he ran resides within the vicinity of their dominion. Anything else is for the crown to seize. The commerce will be used to rebuild the city,” Erik decided. 

Most of the council nodded along with this.

“What about the traitor, Lord Stryker?” Lord Trask asked. 

Erik narrowed his eyes at the man. Intelligence had told him he was friendly with Lord Shaw, but he had not ridden out against Erik and he had nothing to prove the man’s treason save Jean’s word. He was hardly going to reveal his spy to the council just to take down one man. Still, Trask would join Essex in leaving the council once he ascended the throne.

“He shall be executed, of course,” Lady Proudstar declared.

She had been unusually silent and was giving Erik an odd look.

“Surely a trial would be sensible, my prince.”

“A trial for what? He rode into battle against me alongside our enemy. There is no need for a trial,” Erik retorted.

“In fact, I believe an official inquiry is necessary to ascertain just how deeply Shaw’s influence was allowed to reach, seeing as how he managed to turn two of Genosha’s twelve trusted advisors against the country’s interests.”

Trask stopped talking after that, a flash of fear briefly lighting his eyes before it disappeared.

“It will be done at once,” Lord Winston announced.

“Your coronation will need to happen posthaste. Will you leave it before or after the period of mourning?”

“After. I want to observe shiva with my children. After the seven days, we will have the coronation.”

“Not after thirty days? You would be forgiven for taking sheloshim as well,” Lord Janos inquired.

“No, it’s important we do what is necessary to stabilize the kingdom. The coronation will go a long way in that. The sooner, the better.”

The councilmembers nodded along, seeing the wisdom in his words.

“There is another matter I wondered about, my prince,” Lady N’Dare started.

Erik rose an eyebrow.

“It is curious that you rode into the city with Lord Helmut Zemo at your side. I know he is young and unmarried. Though I have heard he has an affinity towards combat, I can’t be alone in my estimation as to why Lord Heinrich sent his omega son rather than his generals to lead his army and represent his interests.”

“Helmut Zemo is not a bad political prospect, I must say,” Lord Winston pointed out.

“This is true. Though His Highness has no obligation to marry. The kingdom has three heirs,” Lady Elaine added. 

“Marriages are not simply down to heirs. Sokovia is near several lands under dispute with the crown. We have long wished to build a new road upon this land leading directly to port. It would help open new avenues of trade for two different cities. Marriage to Lord Helmut puts that road within our purview directly rather than Lord Heinrich’s,” Lord Mikhail lectured.

“Do we know anything regarding his chastity?” Lord Nathaniel inquired.

“I have heard no rumors of anything untoward,” Lord Norton replied.

“Is marriage the thing to focus on at present? The city will be in a period of recovery following the attack. It will take months to rebuild,” Lord Janos pointed out.

“A marriage with Lord Helmut will only help smooth that transition. It will give the people something else to look forward to, a prince consort, the first in five decades. Give the people something to distract themselves with, to gossip over, and that will have more worth than anything else while we eradicate the effects of Shaw’s coup,” Lord Winston explained to mutterings of agreement and some lingering dissent.

Erik stifled a sigh. This was what he was afraid of, the council taking the barest hint of a possible marriage to Lord Helmut and running with it, thinking they had the right to dictate what he was to do in this situation or indeed with his reign. He would be king, so he would have to assert himself and know when to take counsel and when not.

“I have no current intentions of entering into a marriage contract with Lord Helmut. I have agreed to consider it and no more than that.”

“I would implore you to consider him with all diligence. It is an auspicious match. You’ll find no one more worthy of consideration in all of Genosha.”

Erik could barely hold in the scoff that wished to escape his lips. Lord Winston very well may keel over once he knows of Erik’s intentions, where his heart lies. The man was a traditionalist to his core. He had protested against Erik’s marriage to Magda vehemently because it brought no political worth and didn’t happen in the usual way (i.e., the council and his father had not gotten to arrange a marriage for him). He was sure Lord Winston was likely to blow his top when he learned of Charles. If he learned of Charles.

“I agree with the prince wholeheartedly,” Lady Proudstar professed.

Erik glanced at the old woman. There was an enigmatic smile upon her withered brown face. Erik wondered at her expression and why she was looking at him like that.

“The time for such things as marriage will come, but I do not believe Lord Helmut will be the one to capture our prince’s heart.”

Erik narrowed his eyes at her. House Proudstar was a prominent family in Genosha. Their family lineage dated back to the island nation’s very beginnings, predating Erik’s own family line. Many of its members tended to be Gifted. While the lady’s two grandsons were emerging as powerful in their own right, Lady Proudstar had no Gifts, yet Erik could not help but think she knew about Charles somehow. Spies perhaps?

“The heart has nothing to do with this,” Lord Winston said in a severe tone, cutting through Erik’s musings.

“I rather disagree. Call me progressivist if you must, but I’ve found much happiness in my marriage and have seen love matches yield better results than arranged marriages all the time,” Lady Amelia pointed out.

“Were not King Jakob and Queen Edith a love match in many respects?” Lord Janos added.

“Oh yes, indeed they were,” Lady Proudstar confirmed.

Erik discreetly rolled his eyes, entirely finished with the conversation.

“Regardless, these discussions are premature. We will focus on the execution of Lord Stryker first. I want it done before my children return to the capital.”

“In the morning then, my prince?” Lord Mikhail prompted.

“Fine. I want full inventory started regarding damages to the city, alongside the investigation into Shaw’s affairs, both within the capital and beyond. Two feasts shall be held on the day my children return before funeral rites begin, one in the castle and one in the city square for the commonfolk. That being the case, we will forestall celebrations for our victory until then. On the morrow, we will hold Stryker’s execution and the burning of his remains along with Shaw and Wyngarde’s.”

“Should Lord Wyngarde’s family not get the opportunity to say goodbye?” Trask asked.

“I imagine they did before he rode out to fight against his prince. They are free to mourn, just as I will mourn my father. Rabbi Elisha will be on hand to counsel them if need be. Wyngarde is a traitor. I will not make an exception for him.”

Lord Winston nodded in approval of Erik’s words. Reformist, he may be, but Erik knew when mercy was called for and when examples needed to be made of his enemies.

“Is there any other matter we need to discuss? No? Good. This council is adjourned.”

He stood up, allowing several of the councilmembers to exit the room first as he made his way towards Trask, who was looking to flee. He caught the short man by the shoulder and spoke quietly to him so no one else would hear. 

“Do yourself a favor and resign from the council after my coronation. If I must remove you, I will not be kind.”

“My prince—” 

“Consider this mercy bearing in mind your empathy for Lord Shaw’s cause. I am running short on that particular facet of charity, so you had best receive it with graciousness. I will be watching you. One slip and you’re finished.”

Trask quietly looked away, shamefaced, and nodded. Erik let him leave the room and turned to Lady Proudstar who remained seated.

“Lady Paloma, is there another matter you wish to discuss?”

“Only that I wish to pass along my congratulations. So rare nowadays to see a true bond. I am always happy when it happens to those who deserve it.”

Erik opened his mouth to deny the existence of the phenomena before rethinking it. It didn’t matter whether he believed it or not. If he got the right people to accept it and support him, he could keep Charles, claim him, and even marry him with minimal fuss if the omega granted him the chance.

“How would you know I am part of a true-bonded pair?”

“I may not be Gifted in the sense that you are, but I learned to see the world not just with my eyes during my youth among my people. A true bond, in many ways, is a soul bond. It changes the aura of your spirit visibly for those who can see such things. That is how I know it is not Lord Helmut. Tell me, where are they, your other half?”

He paused at the description before privately acknowledging to himself that Charles had managed to become that in a short amount of time, a shocking thing for him, but it was a fact.

“Charles is with my children, and his son, in a safe place.”

Lady Proudstar rose an eyebrow.

“A son? Is he married?”

“Divorced.”

Lady Proudstar waved a hand as if it was of no consequence.

“A complication, yes, but true bonds prevail over much strife. They are designed that way by the gods. You are not claimed, I can tell. I must know to satisfy any lingering doubts, how do you feel now that you are parted from him?”

Erik took a moment to think of it. That tugging in his chest was most insistent, but how to describe it? He had not the words to honestly explain his inexplicable draw to Charles, not his own words anyway.

“I have a strange feeling with regards to him, especially when he is near me. It is as if I have a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string in the corresponding quarter of his chest. And if he were to leave, if the sea and miles of land come between us, I am afraid that cord of communion would snap. I’ve a notion it would be inexorably distressing to me,” Erik explained, paraphrasing Charles’ favored text, the memory of him reading to Anya in the living room of the inn and his desperately uttered words in Erik’s bedroom playing in his mind. The words were a perfect approximation of his feelings. 

Lady Proudstar nodded her head with the barest smile on her face.

“Yes, that sounds very familiar to me indeed. You do have a true bond with this man. You’ll have to speak with Rabbi Elisha about this. It is part of his duty to protect and update the records of all true bonds within the kingdom.”

“Is it so extensive?”

“Oh yes, the tome is not insubstantial in size. There have been many. True bonds are heavily scrutinized by your church. The ministry can be rather stringent in their requirements, so bonds that my people or I recognize may not be recognized by the church, but I feel Rabbi Elisha will see things clearly in this case. It is obvious to me, more so than I have seen in years. Not since your parents.” 

“My parents?”

“Their union was blessed by the gods in more ways than one. Why else would the future king marry a lady from a minor house in Genosha’s smallest city? Why else would he ignore conventional wisdom that said to take a mistress for the heirs the queen had difficulty producing? Why else would he be so inconsolably affected by her death?”

Erik stood speechless for a long moment.

“He never said. And Mama always made the stories sound like fairytales. I never believed her.”

“The loss of a mate within a true-bonded pair is not the same as it is within those who have standard bonds. It is believed the soul has been split into two and cast into separate bodies, forever seeking out the other. To lose that other half once found is to lose part of your soul to death. Your father was never the same after your mother died for this reason. I counseled him as much as I could, used what I had learned from my people to keep him from giving in to despair. The truth is nothing could’ve fixed what he lost. He tried his best with you and Ruth, but it was a hill he could not climb. I do not excuse his neglect. I often tried to make him see reason with you and seek love to replace lost love, but he was a stubborn one. I am glad that you will get to experience the same kind of love your parents did. If this feeling you describe is true, then it is clear you have a true bond. Rabbi Elisha will interview you both to officially confirm it, but I am satisfied with the bond’s authenticity.”

Erik was not sure if he was more shocked or relieved.

“What now?”

“He must come to the capital. What the gods have discerned in their wisdom to create let no man tear asunder, including you.”

“It may not be as simple as all that. I betrayed his trust, lied to him about who I am. His reluctance is his right. He may not come here at all.” 

“It is not wise to part for too long, especially without a claiming taking place, given the bond’s nature. It may prove volatile if you attempt to sever it. You mustn’t turn away from this, Prince Erik. It won’t portend well for the kingdom or yourself or your Charles if you spurn this blessing.”

“I have no intention of doing so, Lady Proudstar, I can assure you. But it isn’t down to me. It’s Charles’ choice in the end.”

“Then I suggest you do your utmost to let him see that the best and right choice is to remain here with you.”

 _Easier said than done,_ he thought with a wry smile.

“Any advice?” 

“You know him better than I do, but if I were to guess he is thinking like a father who wants to protect his child, like a lover burned if not scorned, like someone whose heart has been broken one time too many. He is shoring up his defenses to protect against another attack, trying to minimize the damage to himself as much as possible. If it is dishonesty that he feels is the bullet with which you are firing upon him, then only you have the remedy. Unadulterated truth, even if that truth makes you feel exposed or uncomfortable. You love him?”

Erik nodded after a moment’s hesitation. There was no point in denying it anymore.

“I do.”

“You give for what you love, my prince. Give him what he wants, whatever he wants. Give him the moon if it’s feasible. Whatever you must do, see it done. I have faith that you can do so.”

Erik thought it over before nodding his head in determination.

_I will find a way to convince him to give me a chance. That is all a need, just a chance._


	15. A Dilemma of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles makes the decision to join Erik in Krakoa but is still conflicted about where their relationship should go.

Charles sat in awe as the carriage he occupied pulled through the streets of Krakoa. The ride from Logan’s inn towards the city had felt like it took an age. It had only been two days, but he was anxious and antsy. That tugging in his chest had gotten more insistent as the days went on with Erik gone. He had become thoroughly annoyed with his heart and this bond Logan claimed they had. Awful needy thing. However, he could not deny that he was over the moon with joy when Logan arrived and announced a resounding victory in favor of House Lehnsherr. 

He had held out faith for the children, but he was worried. He tried to distract them as best he could but going into the woods didn’t feel the same without Erik. He continued teaching them, he read them stories by the fireplace, they drew together, he helped David with his powers, and he even tried his hand at teaching Anya stitchwork. The whole time Erik was never far from his mind. Charles wished he could be out there with him. His martial education was abandoned once he settled as an omega. He didn’t know how to shoot a gun, couldn’t box, or swing a sword with any skill. He barely knew how to shoot an arrow without assistance, but he was a telepath and not a weak one. Realistically, he knew he’d be more of a hindrance. Logan and Erik would end up protecting him instead of themselves, so he waited and was rewarded. Beyond his own relief, the bright smile on Anya’s face at the news was well worth it.

Following the relief came the decision he had to make of whether he would stay at Logan’s inn or go to the capital. He thought of the passages of  _ Jane Eyre _ he had been using to keep himself hearty. He thought of Erik’s sincerity in his invitation and his veiled confessions about his feelings for Charles. He thought of his broken heart and his wounded pride over being lied to. He thought of Logan’s theory on their inexplicable connection. He thought of how hard it would be to say goodbye to Anya and the twins. He thought of David, who would probably be safer in obscurity, and how David had been inquiring about Erik’s whereabouts ever since he left. David wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. If he were honest with himself, Charles wasn’t ready either. 

Logan decided to stay behind, not keen on immersing himself in courtly drama. He bestowed Charles with more monies than he wanted to accept, but his godfather would not be swayed. Charles was sad to say goodbye to both his godfather and the inn. They had been refuges for him and David after a long, dreadful ordeal. They had come to symbolize home, safety, warmth, and happiness. Erik and his children, in many ways, represented those things just as well. Charles did not want to look too deeply into the implications of that, not when he was still so indecisive about what his future was to be. He hugged Logan tightly, promised to write and then rode off, leaving the inn behind him.

The ride to the capital was not unpleasant. It reinforced the beauty of the country in Charles’ eyes. Even the most mundane villages had a natural sort of attraction, but Krakoa took the cake. What really grabbed his attention was the royal palace. He had seen it in Erik’s thoughts, but the sight of it was another story. It was a medieval castle made up of seven massive drum-towers crowned with iron ramparts. Immense curtain walls surrounded the castle along with nests and crenellations for archers. Thick stone parapets four feet high protected the outer edge of the ramparts. There were high bronze gates and portcullises, postern doors and cornerforts. The immense barbican had a cobbled square in front of it where the townsfolk set up a small marketplace in addition to the ones within the city proper. Behind the walls were small inner yards, vaulted halls, covered bridges, barracks for the city’s watch, dungeons, granaries, kennels, and stables and that was just outside. Tony’s manor, the largest castle in Westchester, would fit inside the Genoshan palace twice over. The only building that rivaled the palace was Krakoa’s Great Synagogue, a spire of glass and iron with black marble walls and arched windows in the center of the city, inviting all to worship in the Judeo religion of Genosha. The city looked like something from a dream. He wondered if that was all this was, some elaborate delusion brought on by the drugs and years of mental trauma. If it was, he never wanted to wake.

David squirmed around on his lap, twisting to look out the windows with fascination. There was a significant crowd outside, so Charles kept their connection tightly wound, not letting the two-year-old venture out psionically. He didn’t seem too put out with it, curiously taking in the new environment.

“What do you think, darling? Do you like it?”

David looked up at him and mentally projected a blurry image of Erik in answer. Charles gave him an indulgent look at that.

“We’ll see him soon, I expect,” Charles reassured him.

The answer appeared to satisfy David and he turned back to the window. 

On the other side of the carriage, Pietro was practically bouncing with energy. Being cooped up in a carriage was undoubtedly not one of his favorite things in the world, but he was too small to ride a horse on his own. If Charles had much less patience, he would’ve been driven up a wall by the young boy’s antics. He could only imagine Erik would’ve been at his wit’s end by now. 

Anya was looking out her window, waving at various people graciously and shouting greetings and well-wishes. Charles couldn’t help but smile at her as she played the part of princess. It suited her well. 

Wanda did not join her sister in engaging with the people but was nowhere near as restless as her brother. He noticed she relaxed more and more as they entered the city. He got residual feelings of  _ safe safe safe no battle no blood no bad people safe _ from her thoughts. He threw an arm around her shoulder and smiled down at her when she looked up at him. She snuggled into his side with no complaints as they continued.

Eventually, the carriage stopped. Charles glanced out to see they were in a small courtyard, but it didn’t appear to be the palace’s main entrance. The footman pulled open the door and helped Anya out first. Pietro raced out behind her. Charles took a deep, calming breath. Once he left this carriage, he was electing to face an avalanche of scrutiny, even if he and Erik remained entirely platonic. He was a stranger in this land and in this castle, and close with the royal family. That would immediately make him both the enemy and a popular man who the more opportunistic courtiers would seek out. He had thought he left this whole song and dance behind him in Westchester, but apparently not. Still, he didn’t quite regret accepting Erik’s invitation. In truth, Charles was a stubborn man and prone to the impulse of proving himself to others. If nothing else, the idea that he would be judged so harshly was enough for a kernel of defiance to grow in him and make him want to show everyone who would say otherwise that he was worthy of standing next to Erik. It was easier to convince others rather than himself.

“Are we going, Charles?” Wanda asked as he had not moved. 

He glanced up at the footman, still waiting for him.

“Yes, dear. Sorry. I was lost in myself for a moment. Go ahead of me.” 

Wanda twisted her lip in dissatisfaction.

“I wanna go together.”

“Want to,” he corrected absentmindedly.

“I  _ want to _ go together,” she repeated, a stubborn set to her lips.

“You’re a princess, you have to proceed me. It’s inappropriate otherwise. I’ll step out right behind you.”

“Charles…” she whined. 

David shifted in his lap in response to her noises of discontent. Charles doublechecked their connection to be sure David wasn’t getting any telepathic shrapnel, but the toddler just watched the beginnings of her tantrum with an apathetic gaze.

“Your father is out there waiting, do you think he would appreciate you throwing a fit the first time he sees you again?”

Wanda whined for a second time before looking down with a pout.

“Can I hold your hand when we get outside then?”

Charles knew that wasn’t the done thing, but nodded nonetheless. Pleased with the arrangement, Wanda moved past him and allowed the footman (now looking at him curiously) to help her down the steps. Charles took the time to gather himself, the tugging in his chest making itself known. He ignored it in favor of securing David in his arms and taking the footman’s hand.

He stepped out of the carriage to be greeted to a smaller cobblestone piazza with a garden on one side and a gated tunnel to the other. It looked to be a private entrance to the castle, forgoing the pomp and circumstance. Charles wondered if this was on account of him. Was Erik embarrassed to present him to the court by walking him and David through the front entrance? Charles dismissed the thought after a second. Erik was hardly embarrassed by his own children and Charles would’ve been overwhelmed with that kind of thing as his first experience with the royal court anyway. 

Erik stood at the entrance to the gate along with several guardsmen greeting Anya and Pietro. A wave of relief coursed through him at the sight of the alpha. Realistically, he knew he was alright, but it was another to see it. He did feel a stab of concern at the sling Erik’s left arm was in.

Wanda latched on to his hand, not to be denied her request. Charles allowed it seeing as how there was no one else around save for the guards. They may gossip amongst themselves, but they didn’t mix with the courtiers overmuch, at least not in Westchester. He allowed Wanda to lead him and David over to the rest of the royal family. She ran the last few feet, jumping into Erik’s embrace happily, accepting his kisses with a giggle, before retreating to her twin’s side. David made his presence known, mentally nudging Erik for attention. The auburn-haired man stood up straight and leaned over to ruffle the brunette hair atop his head. Charles could feel him project something to David that started the toddler cooing serenely. Finally, Erik’s eyes switched to him.

“Charles, I’m pleased you elected to come,” he said formally, but with an undertone of happiness.

“It’s not every day one gets a chance to be the personal guest of the king, is it?”

“Not king just yet, but soon.”

“Nevertheless, I’m glad to see you victorious, though your arm gives me pause.”

“Musket ball,” he answered dismissively. 

Charles was not nearly so glib.

“Is it serious?”

“Little more than a flesh wound.”

Charles looked doubtfully at his sling.

“Have you been going to see a physician regularly?”

“I was looked over after the battle. It’s fine.”

Charles glared at him in response to his flippant attitude.

“You must take care with yourself. It could become infected, you know. Musket wounds have the tendency to seem benign until they are decidedly not. The physician should be making every effort to see about your health if you won’t go yourself. They should be changing your bandages regularly, employing the appropriate salves and potions to fight infection, and being sure you keep your arm as immobile as possible. A hard feat knowing you, but nevertheless—”

“Charles,” Erik interrupted, raising an eyebrow at his rant with an amused look. 

He stopped abruptly when he realized what he was doing. His omega instinct to nurture and protect had run away with his mouth.

_ He is not my alpha, _ he reminded himself. 

An insistent tugging in his chest was his only answer.

“I apologize. They are appointed by the crown to care for you. They would know more than I, I’m sure. I was just worried.”

“I appreciate your worry, but it is not necessary. I am virtually unscathed.”

Charles gave his shoulder a pointed look but put that aside for other matters.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, no longer addressing his physical health. Erik picked up on this change in subject.

“I am better in many respects. There will be mourning yet, but some wounds are becoming scars more and more each hour.”

Charles reached out to Erik, just skimming the surface of his thoughts and emotions. That ball of negativity was still present but significantly smaller than when he left. Charles was surprised but not displeased. Erik deserved to be able to lay his ghosts to rest. If this battle with Shaw allowed him to do just that, then Charles was glad of it. He was doubly glad that Erik’s emotions hadn’t blinded him, and he was able to come out of this conflict alive.

“As long as your soul is at peace, my friend.”

The two shared a look of understanding before Erik spoke again.

“I have had a room prepared for you and the nursery is available for David.”

Charles rose an eyebrow.

“With the twins? Won’t that be improper?”

“Do you care?”

“Others will.”

“Let them.”

Charles opened his mouth before snapping it shut. He nodded wordlessly instead. They stood awkwardly silent for a moment before Anya tugged on both of their sleeves.

“Let’s go inside. I want to show Charles the castle.”

“You’ve been on the road for some time. You both need to settle in first. You have plenty of time to show him the palace. For now, I will show him to his room,” Erik started before turning to him,

“If that’s alright.”

Charles was sure that was a servant’s job and not the crown prince but nodded anyway. He followed Erik through the hallways, passing by various people as they went, servants and nobles alike. He garnered looks of curiosity, but he ignored it in favor of taking in his surroundings. The castle showed signs of a siege from patched holes in the roof to scarred walls. It wasn’t anything that couldn’t be repaired in a few months, but he wondered how Erik felt living with these reminders.

Finally, he was led to a large guest room draped in dark blue and yellow. The furniture was mahogany. There was a wardrobe with a long mirror attached to the front. The windows were stained glass but large and would open to quite a view, he was sure. There was an expensive-looking vase half-filled with water on the bedside dresser, but it held no flowers. What truly grabbed his attention was the four-poster featherbed in the room. He had to repress the urge to run to it and bury himself in the softness. He had resigned himself to the fact that he would never lay in that kind of comfort again, but there it was. He had not been able to hide the subtle elation because Erik chuckled next to him, the dark timbre of it sending a lance of tangled emotion through him.

“I admit, I believe it is a leg up on the beds Logan’s inn had to offer,” Erik joked. 

Charles smirked in reply.

“Don’t let my beloved godfather hear you say that. Besides, they served their purpose,” he quipped back before blushing furiously when he realized the connotation of his words.

Erik’s face took on a strange expression before he cleared his throat and nodded.

“I quite agree.”

Charles bit his lip as another hush prevailed between them, this one not so much awkward as it was loaded, but Erik’s slight exclamation cut the silence.

“I nearly forgot.”

He watched Erik approach the room that adjoined to the main bedroom. Charles caught a glimpse of a crib inside and a wardrobe before Erik returned, pushing a small wooden rocking horse while clutching a bouquet of flowers in the same hand. Charles recognized them as the ones he had come to favor that grew near Logan’s inn: carnations, peonies, blue irises, and chrysanthemums. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I thought David might like the horse and the flowers are for you. Consider them gifts of welcome.”

A wave of happiness overtook the room as David spotted the toy. He began to reach out towards it and Charles let him down, placing him atop the faux horse. The twins assailed on him almost immediately, rocking him back and forth. Anya wordlessly stepped closer to supervise without prompting. Only when he was sure she was watching did he look back to the bouquet still in Erik’s proffered grip. He was a little slower to take the flowers but eventually accepted, twirling the arrangement under his nose. He glanced up at Erik from beneath his lashes, his nose still obscured within the petals. There was an expression upon his face that Charles was too frightened to identify. He was saved from doing so when a knock came to the door.

“My prince?” A voice called from outside.

“Come.”

A brunette beta around Erik’s age walked into the room holding several garments. She was pretty and dressed too finely to be a servant but, compared to some of the other nobles Charles had passed in the hall, he would say her clothing was of lesser quality. Perhaps she was from a minor family or a lady-in-waiting. What was she doing here? Maybe Erik was needed elsewhere.

“Ah, good. Charles, meet Lady Moira MacTaggart. She will be attending you during your stay here. Lady Moira, Lord Charles Xavier.”

“Lord Charles, pleased to meet you,” she said with a curtsey. 

Charles looked at Erik with an alarmed expression.

“She can’t attend me,” he blurted out, not even thinking to moderate his words. 

Both Erik and Lady Moira looked taken aback.

“I assure you, I wouldn’t have selected Lady Moira if I didn’t think her highly qualified to satisfy all your needs. I didn’t think it a problem, but if you would prefer someone Gifted instead or an omega—” 

“That isn’t it at all,” Charles protested, appalled at the insinuation before running his reaction back in his head and sighing. He turned to the woman with an apologetic expression.

“I meant no offense. I am certain that your skill is beyond reproach, but I don’t need attending. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing so for months now. Even if I couldn’t, a lady-in-waiting is quite above my station,” Charles explained, directing his last statements to Erik.

“Why would she be? You are my guest, I won’t have it said I leave my invitees to fend for themselves under my roof.”

“It isn’t proper.”

“You and your Westchesterian sense of propriety. I would’ve thought we were well past that.”

Charles shot a glare at the prince, quite contrary to the message of keeping to propriety, but he had never claimed not to be a contrarian.

“It would be better for everyone if she left. It will cause problems for me, for you, and most likely for her as well.”

“Nonsense, she’ll stay and attend you.”

_ “What are you playing at?” _ Charles hissed in Erik’s head. 

The prince flinched, but to his credit he roused quickly before projecting his answer back.

_ “I’m simply making sure you are taken care of while you’re here.” _

_ “I told you I can take care of myself.” _

_ “Come now, Charles. Be reasonable,”  _ Erik chided in a manner that only served to get Charles even more flustered and frustrated.

_ “I am being perfectly reasonable, you are the one being utterly unreasonable. People will already gossip about the mysterious stranger the soon-to-be king is entertaining after weeks away from the palace. For all I know, they’ll believe me your whore and David your bastard. A lady-in-waiting will only reinforce the idea that you and I have a relationship that crosses the bounds of acquaintanceship.” _

_ “Hardly a lie, is it?” _

Charles paused. That was true, but as much as Charles was unwilling to allow these courtiers to judge him to his face, that didn’t mean he was comfortable giving them reasons to whisper behind his back. They would do so anyway, but the color of those rumors would depend on how Erik acted and if he kept staring at Charles the way he was staring at him now, everyone would know the truth.

_ “Cut it out.” _

_ “Pardon?” _

_ “Stop looking at me like that.” _

_ “I’ve no clue what you mean.” _

Charles projected the look to Erik. The undercurrents of longing and desire in his gaze with softer emotions Charles refused to name were evident.

_ “I didn’t know I looked at you like that. I don’t know that it’s something I can change.” _

Charles stared at Erik, not sure what to extrapolate from that or how to reply.

“If I may,” a voice said, cutting through them. 

The two men startled, finally remembering that they were not alone in the room. Charles blushed scarlet as he turned to Lady Moira who was now standing beside Anya near the wardrobe. They were both giving them knowing looks tinged with amusement. Charles didn’t feel bad about peeking into the woman’s mind to see what she had just observed. He blushed deeper at her perception of Charles and Erik bickering then abruptly staring wordlessly into each other’s eyes.

_ If they are not bonded, they will be soon. Poor man, he’ll be in for it. I’d better make sure to stay and help him how I can, _ the woman thought earnestly. 

Charles instantly warmed to her and her next words only solidified it.

“If the title of lady-in-waiting makes you uncomfortable, I don’t mind if you call me a guide. The palace is large and can be confusing for newcomers. I practically grew up here and can make sure you don’t get lost. Beyond that, I can take you into the city and show you all the best vendors. I can play governess. I’ve got some experience with attending to children, both Gifted and Non-Gifted, so I can attend to your son if needed. I can also be your research partner. The prince says you have a disposition towards the sciences, and I share the same interests. I can be a fellow literature aficionado as the prince has said you quite enjoy reading. I’m not very good at chess I’m afraid, but don’t mind learning if you’re willing to teach me. If all that does not suffice, you can simply call me a new friend… who just so happens to attend you.”

Charles stared at the woman who watched him expectantly before a smile alighted his lips.

“Only if I allow it.”

_ “I like her.” _

_ “I thought you would.”  _

“Unfortunately, you will likely need it tonight. I can help you prepare for the feast. I’ve already picked up your clothes. I can call the seamstress once you’ve tried them to adjust them,” Lady Moira assured.

“Feast?” Charles asked with confusion.

“A small celebration of victory in the ballroom tonight. I meant to say so sooner. You are invited, of course. I had clothing commissioned for you. I hoped you would join my table tonight,” Erik explained.

Charles glanced at the garments in the woman’s hands. He looked up at Erik again with narrowed eyes. He kept an innocent expression on his face, not that Charles bought that. He wondered what Erik was seeking to accomplish: giving Charles these flowers, bringing him these clothes, inviting him to sit at his table, assigning him a lady-in-waiting, introducing him as Lord Xavier, allowing David to stay in the nursery with the twins, putting Charles in this room garbed in his favorite colors that was, now that he thought of it, entirely too big. This was likely supposed to be held for visiting dignitaries or extended family if he were to guess.

_ “Whatever are you doing, Erik?” _

The alpha stared at him quietly for a moment, his eyes switching over Charles’ face, studying him as if he were some existential masterpiece of art.

_ “Don’t you know?” _

The answer suddenly became apparent to him. Erik was trying to court him, in not so many words. He was trying to make room for Charles in his life, in his home, in his kingdom, in his world. Erik had never said he didn’t want him, never said they weren’t a possibility, Charles had. But of course he had. Charles had no choice but to recognize where he was in life and his station compared to Erik’s. He knew the many reasons why their match was impossible. It didn’t matter if Erik had everyone here address him as a lord or was assisted by a highborn lady-in-waiting, not if everyone learned the truth about him. Clearly, Erik had no intention of telling anyone where he came from. Charles wondered if he did himself. What would be the point? He didn’t owe anyone any explanations and nothing they came up with could be worse than the truth, could it? But what if they went looking themselves? What if they found Cain or Kurt? What if someone told them where he was, and they came for him? What would he do? What  _ could _ he do?

Charles looked away from Erik abruptly as he felt a tension headache forming in his temples. If Erik was doing all of this, he clearly had no intention of making Charles a secret or a mistress. Charles had absolutely no clue what he wanted, or rather he did, but he didn’t know if that was the right thing for him to want or pursue. His mind turned to his beloved passages.

_ My very conscience and reason turned traitors against me and charged me with crime in resisting him. They spoke almost as loud as feeling and that clamoured wildly. “Oh comply!”, it said. _

So many times in Charles’ life, he had given into base emotion. He gave into its whims when he left Raven behind for York. In York, he lived his life half-ruled by his desires. As much as his actions had an underlying agenda, he hadn’t hated his dalliances. The chance to live in an environment where he was not constrained by his alpha relatives, coerced to conform by his prejudiced mother, or forced into polite society’s restrictions had bred impiety in him, which he enjoyed indulging. Before his marriage, if he wanted something, he did it and damn the consequences. Raven had often called that arrogance, Charles called it independence before Cain and foolishness after him. If he had met Erik in York, he would not have resisted him. He would have pursued him insistently and probably discarded him not long thereafter, as was his practice with even his most passionate lovers. There were things to lose now and Charles was not that person who could act simply on a feeling anymore.

_ Think of his misery, think of his danger— look at his state when left alone, remember his headlong nature, consider the recklessness following on despair. _

Erik was a man of high emotion. Despite his position, he was not a man who easily let people in. He did not make efforts to befriend individuals. He was polite and willing to help, but he was a solitary soul, so Charles figured it meant a great deal when he let people in. However, in his loneliness, he allowed emotions to stew and fester, be they positive or negative. Even now, Charles could feel the intense waves of passion coming from him. Now it wasn’t fueled by hatred, anger, or pain but softer sentiments directed at Charles. He did not know how much he had to do with tempering Erik’s emotion before the battle. He was not so foolish or vain as to think one conversation would change years of Erik’s feelings, but maybe his words helped. Either way, just like Anya, he did notice a marked difference in Erik from the time they first met to now. 

_ Do your duty as an omega— soothe him, save him, love him, tell him you love him and will be his.  _

Whether it was the bond Logan theorized about or his omega instincts, Charles wanted nothing more than to submit. He wanted to be Erik’s and for Erik to be his. He wanted to keep Erik safe how he could, protect him, even if that meant from himself. 

_ Who in the world cares for you? Or who will be injured by what you do? _

David cared for him. Logan cared for him. Raven, wherever she was, cared for him. Anya cared for him. Wanda and Pietro cared for him. Erik cared for him. Most importantly, he cared for himself. 

What was he doing anyway? He couldn’t live his life by the creeds of a bloody novel. He couldn’t live it by the standards others set for him either. If he did everything society dictated, he would still be drooling in front of a window in Xavier Manor, drugged out of his mind and tantamount to a sex slave. His life was his own to do with as he saw fit, to share it with who he deemed appropriate. He and Erik had feelings for each other, that was undeniable. Their relationship worked at Logan’s inn. It could’ve worked on the common streets of Krakoa. Could it work in this palace? Could he get past his reservations and lingering doubts and mistrust? Charles didn’t know. He wanted to find out, but he resolved caution was not to be thrown to the wind. He took a deep breath and looked up at Lady Moira.

“Thank you for bringing the clothes. I would like to try them sooner rather than later so the necessary adjustments can be made. It would be horribly unseemly to look unpresentable if I’m to dine at the high table.”

Lady Moira gave him a smile and nod, some deeper understanding in her eyes.

“I’ll leave you to it then, shall I?” Erik asked beside him. 

Charles glanced up at him, not quite meeting his eyes so much as studying his face. There was an air of disappointment and defeat about him.

“Thank you for the clothes and flowers. I will see you tonight.”

Erik nodded, taking the dismissal for what it was. He gathered his children, ignoring the twins’ protests to usher them out the door.

“Erik?” He called before the man could leave the room, ignoring how improper it was to call him by his name in front of Lady Moira. She had already seen them being indecorous to each other. No assumptions she was making were too far from the truth.

“You will save a dance for me, won’t you?”

Erik’s face lit up at that. Charles hesitated but smiled back at him in reply.

“I wouldn’t dream of doing anything less. That is if you can manage not to step on my toes this time.”

“I thought you, strong alpha you are, could take it.”

“You would know, I suppose.” 

Erik rose a suggestive eyebrow at him. Charles couldn’t help the flirtatious edge to his smile in return. This, at least, was familiar. Lady Moira cleared her throat daintily, but there was a smirk upon her lips.

“Off with you. You are offending the poor lady’s sensibilities. If you stay any longer, I shall tell the entire court how very discourteous their prince is and how appalling I find the manners in this country.”

A laugh left Erik’s lips as he slipped out of the room. Charles glanced down at David, still engrossed in his new toy, before meeting Lady Moira’s eyes. Her lips quirked into a genuine smile.

“If you are to dance and dine with Genosha’s ruler, we will have to make sure you are the finest looking gentleman in the room.”

Charles glanced down at himself. He had put on some weight at the inn, but he was still too frail-looking for his taste and he was sure his hair looked horribly neglected.

“I don’t know how successful you will be, my lady, but you can certainly try. In the meantime, you can tell me about yourself,” Charles decided.

He took a deep breath as Lady Moira approached him with the garments. Maybe, there was room for hope still.


	16. The Feast (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles attends the celebratory dinner and meets Erik’s council.

Charles had been to many social events in his life. Being part of the upper echelons of Westchester made his presence at such soirees mandatory lest idle gossip be allowed to take hold of his haughty compatriots. Any little misstep could be used to level the harshest indictment. His mother would never allow her supercilious friends to have a reason to titter behind their fans about her children (for no reason other than how it would reflect on her). Thus, Charles had frequently found himself poked and prodded and stuffed into all manner of itchy fabrics and overly starched outfits with a plastic smile on his face. The parties Tony used to throw were much less formal and meant to facilitate the hedonistic lifestyle the students at York University led. They had been fun while they lasted, but Charles had never been overly fond of those either. They were good hunting grounds for him to indulge his vices: dress obscenely, drink excessively, fuck some lord or lady and shoot off at the mouth to show off his intelligence. That being said, he felt an undeniable undercurrent of excitement and apprehension as he entered the ballroom for Genosha’s celebratory feast. 

The room did not seem to have been heavily affected by the assault on the castle. In fact, it looked pristine. ­­It was made up of high walls of pale stone, periodically covered with tapestries depicting various scenes of nature, battles, ships sailing, a group of people around a fireplace holding hands, all most likely emblematic of important points in Genoshan history. Charles wondered about the stories behind them. Several tables were to the right of the large room, leaving the left side, the dancefloor most likely, empty save the musicians playing an unobtrusive tune to delight the mingling crowd. The tables were decorated with the same dark purples and reds he had seen throughout the castle, confirming his suspicions that they were Erik’s house colors. It made a good contrast for the otherwise well-lit room. 

Charles noticed that the Genoshan nobles seemed to prefer darker colors. Many in the room were garbed in dark shades or cool colors: ruby, forest green, violet, maroon, black, tawny, and other such shades. Even Moira beside him wore a grey dress with dark olive floral accents. Charles, by contrast, couldn’t help but feel like he stuck out. Erik put him in a navy evening jacket, a silk gold paisley waistcoat, and a pure white dress shirt and cravat, which Moira helped him tie in the latest fashion. The outfit looked good on him, he could admit. Moira had gushed that it made his eyes appear even bluer. She had washed, cut and combed his hair into what she called fashionably messy and patted his face with a bit of rouge and powder to give him a healthier color before deeming him fit to dine with the prince. Charles was still uncertain. The outfits worn by the Genoshan aristocracy did not seem as ornate as what he became accustomed to in Westchester, but no one could doubt their wealth. He was born and bred in the same crust as many of these people, but he could not help but feel like a pretender. 

There was a spike of anxiety from outside of himself and he glanced over at Moira. She appeared to be struggling with the same sentiments as him. They had had a long, friendly chat as Charles settled in. He learned that her mother had been a lady-in-waiting for Queen Edith. Upon the queen’s death, Moira remained in the capital as a companion and attendant for Princess Ruth. She was a highborn lady, but her maiden family was new to the aristocracy, only three generations removed from their mercantile days, which made her position among the peers of the realm more tenuous. She was also involved in a couple of scandals thanks to her late husband, a Lord Joseph MacTaggart, who set her aside for a mistress after accusations of infertility. Her husband would not grant her a divorce and she did not want to dishonor her family by proceeding with one without her alpha’s consent. Unfortunately, this landed her in an unenviable position when her husband was subsequently arrested for selling Gifted poachers caught on his lands into slavery. Moira held no guilt in the matter, but it stained her reputation despite their marital and geographical separation. Erik made sure to secure her position at court because of her close relationship with Princess Ruth and because he was sure of her innocence regarding her husband’s crimes.

Charles felt deeply for her and figured that her history was no small factor in Erik’s decision to pair them together. He had felt comfortable enough to share some of his own experiences with her and Moira had been most understanding and empathetic. He found her to be a calming and endearing soul, her mind denoting her quiet brilliance and intelligence. He even found her scent to be a pleasantly appealing one: rose, raspberry and chocolate. He already saw her becoming a dear friend to him if he were to remain in this castle. He reached out and squeezed her hand comfortingly, allowing a tendril of his telepathy to soothe away her misgivings. She shot him a smile in return.

“I am always this way at these kinds of events, don’t mind me.”

“I’m nervous too. If we stick by each other’s side for as long as we can, we just may get through this in one piece,” Charles offered. 

Moira smiled wider at him and squeezed his hand back.

They stepped fully into the room, glancing around at the occupants. A waiter came with a tray of champagne and they both took a glass with a nod of thank you.

“Tell me, who else will be sitting at the high table tonight?”

“Other than yourself and the prince, Genosha’s Council of Twelve will sit with him: Lord Winston Frost, Lord Norton McCoy, Lord Mikhail Rasputin, Lord Nathaniel Essex, Lord Janos Quested, Lady Amelia Voght, Lady Elaine Grey, Lady N’Dare Monroe and Lady Paloma Proudstar.”

“I thought you said there were twelve?”

“Lord Trask is not attending tonight. It seems he resigned the council and left for his estate with great haste. Lord Stryker and Lord Wyngarde turned cloak against the crown and went the way of traitors. Between you and I, at least one other council member is likely to unceremoniously resign if they are not removed upon Prince Erik’s ascension to the throne. If there is any you must be most wary of, it is Lord Winston Frost.”

“Frost as in Emma Frost?”

“You’ve met Lord Frost’s daughter?”

“In passing. It wasn’t exactly a warm encounter. She all but accused me of telepathically manipulating Erik into consorting with me. The apple did not fall far from the tree then?”

“It barely rolled when it hit the ground. He is the head of the council and a traditionalist to the core. He may take issue with you just because the prince has a guest he didn’t know of beforehand.”

Charles observed the man in question. He was in his 50s or 60s with more gray than blonde flecking his hair. He had a stoic, emotionless air about him, but his nose was slightly raised in an imperious fashion and he looked down it at the others around him, including the several blondes who appeared to be his family. He knew this type of aristocrat. He had dealt with his kind all his life.

“Anything else I should know?”

“Lord McCoy does lean on the more conservative side, but he is a friendly man of genial nature with an inclination towards the sciences, especially the medical sciences. His son is a training physician. You may find commonality with him in those regards. Keep conversation with Lord Essex to a minimum. He is an odd one, to say the least. Lord Rasputin will likely only wish to speak about his various business ventures with you. You’re likely not to get a word in edgewise. Lord Quested is not talkative at all and is unlikely to speak with you beyond pleasantries. Lady Voght, Lady Elaine, and Lady N’Dare are pleasant and will take an interest in you. They may fish for more information than you are willing to give, though. Lady Proudstar is harder to pin down. She is a mercurial woman. She will either adore you or hate you. There seems to be no method to her madness, I’m afraid. She has been on the council since Prince Erik’s grandmother sat the throne. She is respected by everyone at court. Her opinion is regarded highly. Do your best to get her on your side. Other than that, the remaining generals from the various cities who aided Krakoa against Lord Shaw will also sit at the high table along with Lord Helmut Zemo of Sokovia. Prince Erik will likely escort him into the hall and share the first dance with him since he is the only visiting lord from outside of the capital.”

Charles nodded, absorbing all the information. He wanted to make a good first impression for both himself and Erik despite what may happen after this. A part of it was not wanting to embarrass Erik, but a larger part sought to find out if he could still win people over, to know that he was not irrevocably marked with a scarlet letter naming him a criminal, a failure, a whore. Moira squeezed his hand again.

“You must put a smile on your face now.”

“Why?”

“Because Lady Proudstar is coming towards us.”

Charles followed Moira’s gaze and saw an old woman making her way to them. She did not shamble despite her advanced age, instead gliding gracefully across the room. Moira squeezed his hand once more and his lips reflexively stretched into a polite smile as the woman stopped in front of them.

“My lady,” he greeted, bowing before her. 

The woman studied him quietly for a long moment, so long that Charles began to grow nervous. After a fashion, her intelligent eyes lit up with something like joy and she smiled at him.

“It is you,” she declared. 

Charles gave her a confused look, which only deepened when her withered brown hands reached out and cupped his cheeks.

“Pardon?”

“You are the one who has captured the prince’s heart. You are his true mate. Charles.”

He was not sure what to say. A part of him was shocked Erik had seen fit to mention him to people at court, Moira and now Lady Proudstar. Then again, after everything he had already done, he supposed he shouldn’t have been. But to claim Charles was his true mate? That seemed decidedly un-Eriklike.

“You cannot know how thrilled I am to see another such blessing before my eyes. And with one so lovely as yourself. The prince is most favored.”

Charles blushed and glanced down bashfully at the woman’s words. A laugh passed her lips, like windchimes, before she pressed a kiss to both of his cheeks, enveloping him in her scent: rain, treacle and wisteria.

“I will, of course, do all in my power to ensure the bond comes to fruition. After all, it is my duty to protect and champion such bonds among my people, the Apache tribes of the Genoshan coastal plains. You don’t have to worry about a thing, child,” she reassured him.

Charles just stared dumbly in reply, unable to articulate anything.

“Will you do me the honor of escorting me to the high table?”

He shook himself from his stupor and wordlessly held out his elbow. He said a reluctant goodbye to Moira, who gave him one last fortifying smile, and escorted Lady Proudstar towards the high table, passing seats which were quickly filling up. The lady pulled him to sit next to her where she sat beside Lord Frost, placing him between her and the gentleman whom Moira had named as Lord McCoy.

“Ah, you must be the prince’s elusive and mysterious guest,” Lord McCoy greeted amiably once he sat.

“I am. Charles Xavier. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

He offered his hand to Lord McCoy, who kissed the back of it as was customary for an alpha to an omega in such a setting.

“Xavier? I can’t say I am familiar with the name.”

“My family doesn’t hail from Genosha, I’m afraid.”

“Is that a Westchesterian accent I detect?” Lord Frost asked.

“You have a good ear, my lord.”

“I am familiar with a Lord Brian Xavier. I once did business with him before his unfortunate and untimely death. He had a son. I wonder if you are indeed that same son.”

Charles’ heart stuttered in his chest and a warning horn sounded in his head. He wondered just how closely this man paid attention to his family. Surely, he would have no cause to after his father’s death, unless he did business with Kurt that was.

“I am,” he replied, his tongue feeling heavier.

“What a small world,” Lord McCoy commented with oblivious delight.

“Quite,” Lord Frost replied. 

He held Charles’ gaze for a long moment. His face was carefully blank, but there was a sharp glint in his eyes.

_ He knows _ , he thought with certainty. 

For a panicked moment, he wanted to delve into the man’s mind and ruthlessly rip away any knowledge he may have of Charles’ past. His daughter was a telepath, and not a fledgling one either. It would probably do more harm than good for his reputation in the long run for him to tamper with the mind of one of Genosha’s most prominent lords. Lady Proudstar shifted, breaking the stare between the two men.

“I have been to Westchester on a few occasions,” the lady started, before launching into an anecdote about her visits to his home country, diffusing the tense exchange. 

Charles shared several stories of his own and as the table began to fill up, others introduced themselves and shared their experiences with Westchester. This carried on until the music abruptly stopped and an attendant announced the arrival of the prince and Lord Helmut Zemo of Sokovia.

The doors opened and Erik entered with an attractive young man on his right arm. Charles only had eyes for Erik. He was dressed formally, but not in an overly ceremonial fashion. Still, Charles had never seen him outfitted so ornately. His muscular yet slender build was wrapped in a handsome outfit of a burgundy evening jacket with gold detailing. It was left open due to his sling to reveal the gold brocade waistcoat he wore beneath it and his white linen shirt and elaborately tied cravat. He was further adorned with rings, several livery collars denoting his status and a gold circlet atop his head, nestled comfortably among his auburn curls. There was a sharp feeling of desire that descended over him as they locked eyes with one another. Erik’s face remained an emotionless mask, but Charles saw the assessment he made of his person, the flash that crossed his gaze before they lost eye contact. Erik moved to help Lord Helmut up the dais. Charles did not look behind him as the two passed, but Erik’s uninjured shoulder brushed his back as they went, and he could not help the tugging it inspired in his chest.

Erik made a speech of gratitude to his allies, expressing eagerness to move Genosha towards peace and prosperity, but Charles hardly heard a word of it. He was confident of its eloquence and sincerity, but Charles was more concerned with his own internal struggle. There was a feeling battering against the walls of his chest and his rib cage, begging to take over him, pressing for him to cross the distance and be close to Erik, to touch him. He tamped it down, unsure of the sudden, heady feeling. His mind recoiled from it, almost violently. He was not yet able to be quite so vulnerable with Erik again, even if he convinced himself to be somewhat cooperative with Erik’s attempts at reconciliation. 

He dropped back into his seat quickly as the room shuffled around him to sit and the servants came forward with platters of food. He did his best to ignore the feeling as he took in the selections before him. Smoked fish, spice-rubbed quail, and a roasted lamb over a bed of vegetables were on display. Charles accepted his portion graciously as well as the goblet of wine offered to him. For a while, the hall was only filled with the sounds of the orchestra playing low music, some mumbling, and the scraping of utensils against plates. As the meal went on and people drank more and more, the general noise in the hall began to rise. He felt like the room was getting warmer and warmer as the minutes ticked by but ignored it in favor of finishing his meal and requesting a refill of his wine.

He kept mostly to himself but twigged into the conversation beside him as Lord Frost began to speak.

“Lord Helmut, I trust you are settling in well,” the older man said to the omega on Erik’s other side.

“I am, thank you. The room Prince Erik chose for me has a very enticing view of the bay.”

“Good, good. I do hope you intend to stay for a while.”

There was something strange in the lord’s voice, some hidden message that made Charles’ ears perk up.

“As long as the prince will have me, I shall remain.”

Again, there was an undercurrent that Charles did not like. The lord’s voice sounded sugary, almost saccharine. Charles could expect as much. Erik was a prince. There would be many vying for his attentions, whether he was married or not. However, there was a deeper assuredness in the young lord’s tone that caught Charles’ attention.

“You never know how the tides will turn. I, for one, hope to see much more of you here.”

“I was thinking of asking the cities of Genosha to send along ambassadors to the capital to better address any issues that may occur. I think Lord Helmut has proven himself a worthy emissary for the interests of Sokovia and would invite him to remain in a diplomatic role,” Erik commented. 

There was a hardness to his tone that did not match the formality of the words. Charles recognized that he wanted their conversation to stop for some reason. There was a quiet moment. Charles did not see what looks were passed between the men, but he gleaned impressions of annoyance, disappointment and defiance from Erik, Lord Zemo and Lord Frost, respectively.

“You will be staying for a considerable time yourself, won’t you, Lord Xavier?” Lady Proudstar asked, pulling Charles into the exchange.

Before he could answer, Lord Frost spoke up.

“Won’t you be returning to Salem soon to join your family?”

Charles looked past Lady Proudstar towards Lord Frost, wondering what he was playing at. Moira had said he was a traditionalist, so he was sure the lord looked down on him. If he had enough of an ear to the ground to know who Charles was, he must’ve already figured out about the divorce, considering the lack of Cain’s scent upon his person.

“I don’t have any family to speak of in Salem. My parents are deceased, and my sister no longer resides there,” Charles replied, not mentioning the family he was certain Lord Frost meant. 

The older man’s flinty eyes remained blank but there was an air of disdain about him, though he made no move to expose the secret he quietly held over Charles’ head.

“Charles can stay as long as he wishes. He is my guest until it is his wish to be elsewise,” Erik rejoined.

Charles finally looked over at the alpha in question. He was looking at Charles. There was a softness in his eye that anyone could’ve read. Considering the look Lord Helmut and Lord Frost sent him, it was noticed.

“Sorry, Lord Xavier of Salem, is it?” Lord Helmut asked.

“Yes,” Charles replied, looking over at the omega for the first time. 

He was a handsome man, Charles noted with some insecurity. He couldn’t help but linger over the lord’s smaller nose enviously. He had an unobtrusive disposition, likely the silent type but opinionated. The other omega had an air of curiosity and caution about him as he sized Charles up.

“Do you and the prince know each other well? I didn’t hear of you on the battlefield, so I assume you are a friend from elsewhere. The prince’s travels, perhaps.”

“I am a relatively new arrival in this country. He has been a friend to me. The first I’ve made here in Genosha.”

“What a fortuitous friendship to have made then,” Lord Helmut replied, not at all in the same way Emma Frost had said so almost a fortnight prior.

“Fate was on my side.”

“So it seems. In some places, it is still deemed quite inappropriate for an omega and alpha to befriend one another. I am always happy to meet another omega who breaks convention.”

His and Erik’s relationship was hardly platonic, but he too was always happy to meet another omega of the same disposition as himself.

“You said you took to the battlefield?”

“I did.”

“Quite successfully. Lord Helmut has a good head for military leadership,” Erik complimented, his voice formal, but it put a smile on Lord Helmut’s face. Charles had to privately admit to himself that the lord had a pleasant smile.

“If only I could’ve had access to a martial education, but alas, it wasn’t so for me, though I can say I never viewed it to be a great loss,” Charles commented, no bitterness in his tone. 

Truth be told, he always veered towards the sciences anyway, so Kurt ending his shooting lessons was the least of his grievances with the man.

“It’s never too late to learn. I have always thought that an omega ought to know how to defend themselves rather than depend upon an alpha or beta to do so for them. Our liberty, chastity, freedom and very lives ought to be measured by the capability of our own hands and strength, not that of others,” Lord Helmut replied genially.

Charles paused before giving the man a bright smile.

“I quite agree. You may have swayed me yet, my lord.”

Lord Frost harrumphed in disapproval from between them.

“You do not see things the same I take it, Lord Frost?” Lord Helmut asked needlessly.

“I understand the youthful yearning for things forbidden, but there are roles within society for a reason. How is order to continue if it is continuously upended? How must society remain virtuous if every day we stray further from the teachings of our lord?”

“The changes that have happened only make sense, don’t they?” Lord Helmut pushed.

“What sense could there be in chaos?”

“Surely affording omegas a few freedoms previously denied them is not so much of an anathema as all that, my lord. Hardly a gaping pit waiting to swallow us all,” Charles countered in a cavalier manner, a mirthful tilt to his lips.

“Do you have much experience watching the effects of political and social acts? I have had 40 years’ worth of watching some societies crumble and fall from making so-called ‘progress’. One need only look across the sea to America. Half of their country is barely recovering from their civil war.”

“Surely, you see the merit in abolishing something as profane as the chattel slavery those poor souls were condemned to.”

“Certainly, but had matters been handled differently perhaps the bloodshed could’ve been avoided altogether. The country would not have been torn apart in the first place and their president murdered thanks to the upheaval.”

“Impasses always seem easier to disentangle with the benefit of hindsight but sometimes change, whether it is by force or decree, is better than no change at all.” 

“If you are so much more knowledgeable,  _ Lord _ Xavier, please do enlighten us.” 

Charles sat up straighter in his seat, never one to back down from a direct challenge.

“I can’t speak for your personal experience and am hardly qualified to speak on the teachings of many religions as, I admit, I scraped by in my theological classes by the skin of my teeth. However, I can look at things from the perspective of scientific objectivism, especially that found in Mendel’s work on mutations within a species. Take, for example, Genosha’s wolf populations. Let us compare the Blue Ridge mountain wolves to the Tungsten Forest wolves. Neither wolf evolved for many years as their behaviors seemed perfect for their environment. They remained kings of their domain, virtually at the top of their food chains in their respective habitats, even living harmoniously with the native tribes of the land. Initially, only the male wolves hunted among both groups with the females taking on a decidedly latent role, mainly to care for the young, breed, help build dens and the like. Then the explorers from the continent landed on the island and eventually took over. Fur trapping increased and the introduction of other species not usually found on the island also threatened both groups. The Blue Ridge wolves learned to adapt to this new reality. Roles among the pack became more lenient. Female wolves began to hunt and actively defend the pack. Male wolves became more involved with teaching the young. The wolf pack became more and more balanced despite this change, and the pack continues to flourish today. The Tungsten wolves remained rigidly in their ways. They refused to, or could not, adapt. They were hunted or challenged by predators until they reached near extinction. All that to say, predetermined roles certainly have their place in societal structure but so too does compromise and evolution. It hardly does a country justice if what could count as a third of their population cannot take up arms to defend their homes, or own land if they would be the best suited to do so, or have custodial rights to their children if they are the safer guardian, or have the legal and judicial means to seek recourse from the courts in case they find themselves in mortal danger, even if it is from their mate. That is all,” Charles finished, picking up his wine goblet to take a sip.

It was only when he put it down that he realized he had managed to garner the entire table’s attention with this impromptu speech. There were many looks of consideration and a new assessment of Charles. Lord McCoy appeared to be giving his words great thought. Lady Proudstar had a secretive smile upon her face. Lord Frost was glaring at him. Lord Helmut had a face of appreciative surprise. Erik…

Charles’ heart began to thud wildly in his chest. Erik was looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes. He bit his lip and Erik’s eyes followed the action. He felt another flash of heat strike him. This felt so much like that night on Logan’s porch. A shiver went down his spine as he remembered how they had spent that night, pleasuring each other over and over until they couldn’t anymore. They couldn’t do this here, not now, but Charles couldn’t look away.

“Pretty and smart. You must tell me where you find your friends, my prince. I should surely wish to find my friends there as well,” Lady Proudstar said, breaking through the tension once more.

She was giving both him and Erik meaningful looks. Lord Helmut was as well, but his gaze was tinged with a hint of jealousy, though he quickly hid it.

The conversation steadily managed to shift away from that debate to lighter subjects surrounding Erik’s coronation and heavier topics such as the mourning period for Erik’s father that the others called shiva. Before Charles knew it, the table was cleared of plates and the first dance was announced. Erik stood up and held out his hand towards Lord Helmut. Charles was not surprised. It was only proper. He was taken aback, however, when Lord Frost offered his hand to him.

“If you would so grace me, Lord Xavier?” 

Charles did not want to cause a scene, so he accepted the offer, allowing himself to be led out towards the dancefloor where others lined up for the hornpipe.

There was no room to talk, or so Charles would have thought as he joined the line across from Lord Frost but there was a sudden projection in his mind that startled him.

_ “When did you come to Genosha? I imagine it couldn’t have been long, considering I only received word of Lord Marko’s inquiries of your whereabouts a little over a month ago.” _

He glanced up at Lord Frost with narrowed eyes as a couple passed between them. The lord was good at projection, not too loud or too soft. His voice sounded utterly emotionless, which surprised Charles. He would’ve expected the lord to be more hostile in the privacy of their heads, considering their little debate. He saw no point in denying what they both already knew to be true.

_ “I came just around the same time, once I was well enough to leave Westchester following the divorce.” _

_ “The way Kurt described you in his pleas for your return if located: naïve, hapless, confused, easily influenced, I would’ve expected a guileless child.” _

Charles felt his jaw tick at the idea of Kurt sending out missives to have people searching for him as if he were an errant boy who ran away from home on a whim. The two moved to join hands when it became their turn.

_ “I stopped being a child when I was ten years old, the moment my father was remitted to an early grave.” _

_ “I was sorry to hear of his death. My condolences again. I did consider Brian a good and honest man who loved his children dearly. He wore his heart on his sleeve more than I approved of, but truth be told, I would’ve killed for that man. That is why I am approaching this matter as delicately as I care to.” _

Charles and Lord Frost joined hands with the couple beside them as the dance continued.

_ “What matter would that be, my lord?” _

_ “I have known the prince since he was a child, you know? I watched him grow into a man. I have come to understand his nature and temperament. I confess I was intrigued by the manner in which he arrived to the capital. He was perfunctory, professional, levelheaded about the matter with Lord Shaw in a way he has not been since this quagmire began. I expected this to be a matter long drawn out, that he would take more time than I would approve of indulging in his bid for vengeance. However, that was not the case. The disposition he had upon arrival was much the same he had when his lady wife still lived. She was good for him, loath as I was to accept that match. Similarly, I acknowledge that you appear to be a positive influence on our mutual friend. His anger and rage seem a bit less likely to overtake his better sense.” _

Charles did not respond, waiting for Lord Frost to get to the point.

_ “Lord Helmut, I know much less about. However, I have heard good things about him. He fought by the prince’s side for Krakoa, already giving him an inroad with the people. He is a bit too liberal for my tastes, but these things can be tempered. He has the correct breeding, reputation and family name to make a suitable prince consort.” _

Ah, there it was. 

_ “Speak plainly, my lord.” _

_ “He is here at the invitation of Prince Erik, who promised to seriously consider him for matrimony. He cannot seriously consider him if he is distracted by whatever tension exists between the two of you. I don’t know what the prince may have led you to believe, but nothing can come of any affair you may have or intend to conduct together,”  _ Lord Frost responded bluntly as they lined up across from each other again.

_ “Not only would such a match be worthless, but it will mire the crown in bad gossip considering your status. I will even be charitable and say none of it is your fault. I have heard rumors of what your marriage to the younger Marko was like. Bad form and bad childrearing can lead to such unsavory things. Nevertheless, some things cannot be helped. You claim you are a man of science. I believe such men to be ones who favor logic over faith. Is it logical to believe that a foreign boy with no name could peacefully become the mate of a prospective king?” _

_ “I have a name,”  _ Charles replied defensively.

_ “Not anymore. Now you have one name and a son who is not lawfully yours to keep. You are all but a fugitive.” _

Charles took a deep breath, reminding himself that this was nothing he had not already thought of. Somehow, hearing it from someone else made it hit harder.

_ “What do you want from me?” _

_ “A simple exchange. You and I both know its folly to live in this fantasy world where the disgraced lord somehow becomes a royal. It is because of the love I held for your father that I am willing to help you. I have enough funds to see you to an estate that I own across the sea in Boston. It was untouched by the Americans’ civil unrest. It needs someone of proper breeding and education to oversee it and I know you have had the same education as my own children. I will even be so generous as to pay the Markos to cease their pursuit of you and your son. I will, of course, set you up with an allowance in exchange for your handling of the property so there is no risk of you becoming impoverished. You can start a new life, a good life, far from here. You could even marry if you so wished. I have a son, Christian. He is a beta, non-Gifted, recently widowed with a young daughter. He is less conservative than I and is likely to indulge your ideas about omega freedoms and autonomy to some degree. It would be a suitable match for one such as yourself.” _

Charles stared up at the lord equal parts perplexed and incredulous as they once again clasped hands during their turn.

_ “Why would you do that?” _

_ “We may have our differences, but I firmly believe Erik Lehnsherr is the man to rule this country and rule it well. _ _ He has the mind, the will, and the right last name. That does not mean he can do it alone. Perception is as important as reality. The perception when he stands beside you versus how it looks when he stands beside Lord Helmut is leaps and bounds from one another. The money is of no object to me if it ensures Genosha’s future.” _

_ “I don’t care about your bloody money. You think I can be so easily bought?” _

Lord Frost studied him as they rejoined their respective lines.

_ “No, this isn’t about money or status for you, is it? You love him.” _

Charles made no move to deny it nor confirm it. Lord Frost took his silence as affirmation.

_ “That is a shame. This truth must hurt you very much. If you love him, you see that my words are not meant out of spite or to uphold my own version of morality but borne of an objective understanding of reality. I’m not asking you to leave him for money or land in Massachusetts. I’m asking you to leave because your presence endangers him. Love makes people do foolish things that can ultimately result in the lives of others or themselves. I’ve witnessed it too many times to be swayed that the emotion can bring any differing outcome. I saw what love did to the prince before, how his love for his sister tore him apart and threatened the kingdom.” _

_ “It wasn’t love that did that, it was the loss of love.” _

_ “Is it not better then to never risk indulging in something so tenuous in the first place? That kind of love couldn’t be helped, this kind of love can. I am trying to make this as kind as I possibly can. This will never be your home. Find a true home somewhere far from here for you and your son while there is still time.” _

Charles let out a heavy breath, trying to hold himself together. Every word from Lord Frost felt like a hammer driving in a nail. He would’ve preferred it if the man was hurling insults and scorn at him, not this strange form of sympathy. He stepped out to make another turn and almost gasped as this brought him chest to chest with Erik. They stopped shoulder to shoulder and Erik let a small smile alight his face as they stepped back in line across from one another. Charles was not sure what his face was doing as Lord Frost and Lord Helmut crossed in front of them, but Erik’s expression waned.

_ “Are you alright?” _

Charles plastered a smile on his face.

_ “I’m just still a little tired from the carriage ride to the capital, don’t worry about me.” _

Erik held his gaze as he joined hands with Lord Frost and Lord Helmut and walked in a circle.

_ “Are you absolutely certain?” _

Charles didn’t answer, not sure how to. He and Erik stepped out of line and began to walk down the length of the two rows shoulder to shoulder, Erik’s left arm not able to press against his back as the other couples did.

“Charles?” He asked aloud, his face growing more and more worried.

“Are you considering Lord Helmut for marriage?” He whispered in reply.

Erik stared at him for a long moment. Charles looked forward as Lord Frost slotted himself on his other side until they reached their places once more and Erik went back to Lord Helmut. A few more turns found them together once more twirling around each other. Erik’s green eyes bore into Charles’, and he felt the tugging in his chest start anew.

_ “You know exactly what I want, Charles,” _ he heard Erik respond, a whisper caressing the tendrils of his telepathic reach. 

Charles clenched his teeth, thinking over Lord Frost’s words and his offer. It seemed the more logical and realistic option than anything else did. What else did he have? The idea that his and Erik’s relationship would be accepted thanks to the backing of one woman due to her belief in a phenomenon that was widely viewed to be fabled if not outright imaginary? What did that mean in the face of decades of tradition?

_ “Perhaps you ought to consider the lord more seriously. He seems a good sort.” _

_ “You can’t mean that, Charles. Tell me you don’t mean that.” _

Charles didn’t answer. He felt a pang in his chest as Erik scrunched his eyes in confusion with a shadow of hurt crossing his gaze as they returned to their position in line and bowed to their partners. He reflected that he and Erik were making a habit of hurting each other lately. Even more reason to remove himself.

He looked back at Lord Frost as the music stopped. The man’s face remained emotionless but expectant. He wanted Charles to agree to him now. He switched his eyes to Erik, staring at him imploringly, begging for an explanation and reciprocity of his feelings. He glanced at Lord Helmut out of the corner of his eyes. The man had on a mask of politeness, but there was displeased resignation in his gaze. It struck Charles that he was a hapless, innocent party in all of this. He likely was sent by his own father to secure this match with Erik, whether he liked it or not. He couldn’t have known about Charles. He couldn’t know the mess he would’ve been plunged into for the sake of politics. Yet that was his world more than it was Charles’ now. He was the one suited for Erik, not Charles.

Charles switched his gaze between the three men, each wanting something from him that he didn’t know that he could give. Before the next song struck up, he let out a wet sigh and turned around, pushing through the crowd to escape the room and the many conflicting emotions and feelings it inspired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mendel’s work is actually more early 20th century than late 19th century, but let’s just pretend that the existence of mutants in this world kickstarted the whole mutation theory of evolution a lot sooner.


	17. The Feast (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head.

Erik watched Charles all but flee the ballroom with not so much as a backward glance. He knew from the conversation that they shared in the guest bedroom that if he wanted Charles to stay, it would be a delicate process. Charles’ confidence in him, in them, was tantamount to a house of cards, liable to fall at the slightest provocation. The telepath was standing on a tightrope, teetering between what he wanted and what society would allow him to have. He would like nothing more than to have Charles simply fall into his arms and damn the consequences, but that was irresponsible and to believe Charles would blindly trust him after the subterfuge he had employed in most of their interactions would be shortsighted of him. A structured, honest approach was Erik’s plan. He would settle Charles into Genosha, let the others see his natural insight and intelligence, the benefit he could bring to the nation. On top of that, with the endorsement of Lady Proudstar and Rabbi Elisha, along with others Erik was sure he could convince they could make this work. 

That left out the other side of things, the little insecurities Charles carried, the reservations born of the tragedy and abuse he had endured. Charles had only just begun allowing himself to want things when Erik’s truth tore down his carefully salvaged perceptions. Perhaps he was asking him for too much. Maybe it was selfish to expect him to want to slot himself into a position in a royal court when he was just beginning to find himself again and still needed to learn to trust Erik again.

The crowd moved to begin another dance, but Erik extracted himself from them, throwing a backward glare at Lord Frost as the older man moved with the crowd. He must have said something, he was sure. Charles was okay before their dance. The prince deftly wove his way through the throngs of nobles, making for the same doors Charles fled through. He looked up and down the hallway but saw no sign of him. He went to ask a guard if they had seen a man matching Charles’ description when a voice calling his name distracted him. He turned to see Lord Helmut approaching him. 

“You are going after Lord Xavier, I presume?”

His face was a carefully constructed mask of geniality. Erik came to himself for a moment, considering Lord Helmut in the grand scheme of all this. He was thrown headlong into a microcosm of events he barely understood or should have any part in. Erik was the one who dragged him into this, playing politics and making suggestions he never had any intention to follow through with. Lord Helmut was a good man from everything he had known of him so far. He regretted ever building his hopes up.

“I apologize for all this, my lord. It was never my intention to bring you here to embarrass you or anything of the sort.”

Lord Helmut looked down, a contemplative expression on his face.

“When I first saw the looks you two shared, I thought to myself, so my husband will be a philanderer. It could be worse. I would rather be married to an adulterous yet benevolent man than an abusive or dictatorial blackguard with no chance of reform. As Lord Xavier spoke, I figured there are worse mistresses I could be forced to share my husband with. Perhaps we will even be friends. The more I saw you two exchanging your looks, the more I realized that it could never be that way. I reconciled myself to many things when my father told me about your offer. I accepted that I would probably always be second best in your eyes, a pale shadow compared to your Lady Magda. However, while it is one thing to be usurped by a ghost, it is quite another to be thought of as inferior compared to a living, breathing man. I dare say I have too much pride in myself to be third best within my own marriage.”

Erik took a moment to gather his thoughts in the face of this unexpected confession.

“I understand that your father will not be pleased with this development. That is why I plan to offer him and all his descendants claim to a fifth of the land seized from Shaw’s various estates. In addition, several of his businesses reside in Sokovia or near her borders. All monies and enterprise connected to said businesses, I yield unto your father in exchange for continued communion and mutual friendship.”

Lord Helmut’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You would give up your claim to Shaw’s lands? It is all yours by right.”

“I have no desire to quarrel with Sokovia or grieve you any longer. You’ve been endlessly helpful to the kingdom in our time of need. I won’t see that go unrecognized.”

“Such an offer cannot be rushed into, no matter how generous. Shouldn’t you speak with your council on it further?”

“I’ve already had scribes draw the agreement up. If you’re happy with the terms, I’ll sign forthwith.”

Lord Helmut got a resigned look in his eyes.

“I never did have a chance, did I?”

Erik’s silence spoke louder than any words could. A curious glint entered the young omega’s eyes.

“And what if I refuse? What if I declare that I believe a life by your side is worth more than a few extra revenue streams and the only redress I see worthy for this infraction to be your hand?”

“This is all I can offer you. I do so humbly.”

“And for him, you would risk your kingship, your kingdom?”

Erik glanced away, wondering the same thing himself. He couldn’t see it as that dire, but others would. They may perceive him as putting a single man above a kingdom of hundreds of thousands of people. And yet…

“Without him, they mean significantly less to me.”

Lord Helmut gave him a considering look before glancing away.

“Hmm.”

“Have I offended you?”

“I would give up my own claims to Sokovia to be so loved,” Lord Helmut responded in lieu of an answer.

They shared an understanding look before the young lord continued.

“I will bring the agreement to my father if you have already drawn it up. I will also mention your idea about the ambassadors. It is a good one. I think you will be a just and fair king. I will stay for the coronation and then return home with your terms once it is done.”

Erik nodded wordlessly. Helmut gave him a small bittersweet smile. He felt a stab of guilt, but it was the right thing for him to do.

“You had better go find your lord,” Lord Helmut commented in dismissal.

The man offered his hand to him. Erik kissed the back of it, not lingering long but rubbing an apologetic circle into his skin. He held the man’s eyes for but a moment more before the omega speedily returned to the banquet hall.

Erik let out a sigh but shook his head free of the small bit of melancholy the conversation inspired. He turned to the guard he was planning to talk to in the first place and inquired about Charles, following the direction the man pointed in. There weren’t many people lingering in the hallways. A few servants he asked mentioned seeing Charles go this way or that, but they never saw him enter any room. He checked Charles’ bedroom and the nursery. He looked out into the gardens but saw nothing. He even checked his own bedroom. He was about to give up when a sudden idea hit him. He had not brought Charles to this particular room himself, but he wouldn’t put it past Moira to have shown him considering Erik had briefed her on as much of Charles’ personality as he saw fit. He returned to the floor Charles’ bedroom was on and walked the length of the hallway towards the door at the end. 

It opened into a large study. The room was made up of cherrywood walls and furniture lit low by mounted lamps. Several bookshelves covered the walls with hundreds of tomes. A few high-backed sofa chairs, a bar to the left side of the enclosure with decanters and glasses, and a desk under the window completed the room’s decor. Charles was standing behind the desk, one of his hands pressed into the top of the wood and the other holding a tumbler of brown liquor. He was half in shadow, the light from the lamp playing against his face and making him appear like a chiaroscuro portrait. He looked up when the door opened and then let out a sigh when he saw it was Erik. His eyes were red and watery, but his face was dry.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” Charles said in place of a greeting.

Erik closed the door and leaned back against it, observing the other man.

“I wanted to see if you were alright.”

“Your place is downstairs among the people, not here with me.”

Erik tilted his head slightly, continuing to study Charles. He looked tired, cautious, tense.

“What did Lord Frost say to you?”

Charles met his eyes only briefly before returning his gaze to the top of the desk.

“Nothing that isn’t true or that I haven’t thought of before,” he replied, taking a sip from his glass.

“If this is about Lord Helmut—” 

“It’s about everything, Erik.”

Charles held his gaze, annoyance and anger flooding his eyes. He said nothing in response. Eventually, the younger man kissed his teeth and downed the rest of his alcohol, grimacing at the burn.

“This was a mistake, coming here. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Erik’s heart constricted at those words.

“Charles—” 

“No!”

He reared back in surprise at the fervency in that one word.

“I don’t want you to fill my head with more daydreams and placations and notions about things that can’t ever be. I understand how the world works more than you give me credit for. You know it too, so why persist in this— this flight of fancy? It is one thing to indulge it at Logan’s inn. The world seemed so far away, and what could I know of the world you truly lived in? But Lord Frost was right to disabuse me of these caprices, these… _fictions_ that I allowed you to convince me of. Frankly, I find it callous of you to bring me here and dangle such impossibilities before me on the one hand and expect me to ignore reality as it sits before my very face.”

Erik scrunched his eyebrows in bewilderment and confusion.

“You present me with Moira and a chance of friendship. You apparently tell Lady Proudstar you think I am your true mate even though you denigrated the idea of it mere weeks ago. You trot me out before your council. All so I can, what, convince them of my worthiness? To what end? This is one night, one single night, and tomorrow when they learn about David and if they should ever learn about the Markos, what then? You think my views on social progression will matter then? Maybe the people won’t care, _maybe_ , but aristocrats are the same no matter where you go. They will not be lorded over by the likes of me. They will never respect me, and they will respect you less because of me. I will not have that over my head or on my conscience.”

Charles paused, taking a deep breath before he continued.

“Lord Helmut is one of your countrymen. He is smart. He seems to have similar views to your own. He is a fighter and can protect Genosha by your side. He has a good reputation, he has a good name. He has a better chance of proving fertile than I do. There will be no surprises from his past that may look to jeopardize the future of your union or kingdom. Anya and the twins may like him. He will be worthy of the position of prince consort.”

“I’ve known you to be many things, but never cruel.”

“Me? Cruel?”

“What else would you call suggesting that I condemn that man to a life by my side when both he and I will spend it knowing that all the while I will wish that he were you? Every moment, every smile, every kiss, every caress, he will see it in my eyes, and he will know and hate me because I will never love him.”

“Love?” Charles scoffed, shaking his head.

“And you call me cruel. That was the cruelest of illusions I allowed myself to be lulled by. I never believed in it before. I don’t know how I let you get into my head so quickly and turn me around so completely. Maybe you’re the telepath between us after all.”

Charles let out a small laugh that ranged on hysterical. Erik watched, puzzled as the man who held his heart seemingly imploded in on himself. Had he done this to him? He moved to approach him, but Charles held up a hand, voicelessly telling him to stop.

“Charles, please. I don’t know what Lord Frost told you—” 

“He seems to be the only one of us that still has his wits about him.”

Something new entered Charles’ face, some deep sorrow and sadness that made Erik long to approach him, gather him in his arms and soothe that pain away, but he knew it would be unwelcome.

“Lord Frost made me a proposal. A sensible one. He has a property in Boston and a widowed son who himself is a father. He offers me security and opportunity that has a better chance of coming to fruition than whatever foolhardiness we allowed ourselves to dream up.”

Erik stopped cold, staring at Charles with disbelief.

“What?”

“A marriage appropriate for my station and an occupation handling his property suited to my lordly training. It puts me far away from Kurt and Cain, secures David’s future, and our financial stability.”

“You can’t.”

“Is there an alternative for a well-educated yet disgraced young father who can’t even lawfully claim his own birth name? I have nothing besides my son and a single bag of belongings. The clothes I am wearing right now don’t even belong to me. Lord Frost will mediate with the Markos to keep them out of my life. They will likely retain ownership of everything the Xavier bloodline has built up anyway. I long resigned myself to that, but I will be able to keep David and my relative freedom unimpeded. Lord Frost has said his son is more liberal than him, so perhaps I can negotiate our lives together.”

“I can handle the Markos. I can provide for you. You won’t need to negotiate with me because I will not stop you from chasing your heart’s desire.”

“And spend my life living off your charity?”

“Stubborn, prideful man, it’s not charity. And even if it were, what would you call living on Lord Frost’s estate?”

“A business arrangement.”

“You would throw yourself to the mercy of some stranger?”

“He is no more a stranger to me than you are, is he, Max?” Charles retorted scathingly. 

He seemed to regret the words as soon as he said it. There was a pause in the room before they both silently agreed to move past the accusation and forget the words were ever spoken.

“I don’t believe Lord Frost is a liar, do you?”

No, he wasn’t. Erik had to admit, of all the ways he figured Lord Frost and his council at large may seek to remove Charles from his life, he did not anticipate this.

“How could you even entertain the notion of this? What do his money and properties matter when you will be depriving yourself of affection?”

“Presumptuous of you to assume I couldn’t open myself to another. I did it with you. I can do it again.”

Erik shook his head in denial.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying. You only deny it because it’s not what you want to hear.”

“I deny it because I know all this flagrant disregard for everything we’ve shared comes from a place of fear. I know it isn’t what is truly in your heart.”

“It doesn’t matter what is in my heart. It is no credit to be ruled by that organ rather than the more rational one.”

Erik threw caution to the wind and approached Charles, caressing his face with his good hand, effectively silencing Charles’ protests.

“I know you. I know that this idea of living our lives separately for the sake of some arbitrary and nebulous idea of propriety is not what you want. You’re not meant to be a chess piece on a political gameboard. You don’t belong on another continent married to some stranger to assuage the sensibilities of a lord who doesn’t know or care about you.”

“Where do I belong? With you?” Charles replied, his voice still scornful, but his tone was tremulous, and he was not pulling away from Erik.

“Yes, you belong with me.”

Charles let out another scoff that sounded more like a sob to Erik’s ears. He brushed his thumb across Charles’ cheekbone soothingly and felt him relax a bit, probably despite himself.

“I have had pieces stripped from me over the years and much of myself has been wrapped up in anger, grief and pain. I had only had glimmers of light in my children. You came into my life quite unexpectedly, and perhaps without meaning to, you have changed it for the better. I didn’t know I needed you until you showed up.”

Charles let out a sigh.

“You can’t say things like that to me.”

“It is only the truth. I intend to provide you with as much verity as you can stand to make up for the omissions and falsities of our previous interactions. The truth is this: I have no armor left. You’ve stripped it from me. Whatever is left of me, everything I am, I’m yours, heart and soul.”

Charles looked at him with wide eyes, speechless. Erik stepped closer to him, looping his arm around Charles’ waist and pulling him flush against him, ignoring the way the move jostled his sensitive shoulder. Charles didn’t fight the embrace, looking up into Erik’s face with a mystified expression. The tugging in his chest settled down as he drew Charles in.

“I can feel you in every fiber of my body. Being without you just for the few days we were separated felt like going without a limb. Whether it is a true bond or not, this thing between us has irrevocably connected us. There is a phantom cord fastening our souls to one another’s in such a way that to deny its existence is odious, if not simply impossible. What value will there be in matrimony if we are not together?”

Charles still did not answer him. Erik could see that he was clenching his jaw in an effort not to speak. He stared down at him and was suddenly seized with an unpleasant idea. What if he was wrong? He had told Charles before they left the inn that he would not push him for anything, but here he was. Charles had never directly said he wanted this after he learned the truth about him. In fact, he had expressly said he didn’t. Charles had also almost admitted his love to him, but that love was for Max Eisenhardt, not Erik. He gave himself over to Max, his body, his mind, his history, not Erik. Maybe Erik was the one pressuring Charles into being something he didn’t want to be. Maybe Lord Frost saw something that Erik refused to see. He reluctantly dropped his hand from the shorter man’s body and took a step back.

“I don’t mean to burden you. I will not force you into anything you don’t want. I know the misrepresentations I perpetuated were wrong and perhaps I am unworthy of even having the opportunity to make any designs upon you whatsoever, but please believe me when I say I would never treat you as Cain did. I would never trap you nor hinder you.”

“Oh, Erik, I would never think— you are _nothing_ like Cain, not even close.”

He felt some small comfort in that, but his misgivings remained.

“Am I alone in this?”

Charles stared at him wordlessly, his impossibly blue eyes still shining with so many emotions that Erik couldn’t name them all.

“Am I being blinded by my uncontrolled passions once more and not seeing that you don’t truly want this?” 

Charles’ eyebrows pulled together as if he could not understand the words he was saying.

“Or did I lose you before I ever had the chance to have you? Are my previous lies an impassable thing that will see us forever apart? I would not expect forgiveness from you, I don’t deserve it, but is regard not enough to build trust upon it?”

Charles bit his lip, a confounded expression still on his face.

“If you tell me you don’t want me, if you tell me I am alone in this, I will leave you be. I will neither hassle nor inconvenience you any further. If you seek to take Lord Frost up on his offer, I will not impede you. I will see you off with a heavy heart, but I won’t protest if it is what you want. I will cherish what we had, but I won’t stop you from leaving if it is your heart’s desire. So, am I alone in this?”

Charles was trembling from all the emotions he was trying to hold inside of himself. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. He shook his head though the way he was looking at Erik made it clear that it wasn’t a denial. He couldn’t say what was going through Charles’ mind.

“Just give me a moment,” the shorter man eventually managed to whisper. 

Erik nodded dumbly in reply and watched him as he turned away, stepping towards the bookshelves, putting distance between them. He stood facing the tomes for a long while, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly. Erik could feel anticipation growing inside of him as he waited, the only sound in the room Charles’ breaths, the ticking clock, and the cicadas outside the window.

He finally turned around to face Erik again. His face was wet with fallen tears, the paths they took leaving smudges from the powder and blushers Moira applied.

“I don’t… I can’t…” he trailed off.

Erik felt his heart in his throat as he took tentative steps forward, drawn by Charles’ anguish.

“Charles, why are you crying?”

The omega’s head tilted in bafflement and the barest disbelief.

“Don’t you know?”

“I wouldn’t dare to presume more than I already have.”

A bitter laugh passed Charles’ lips, leaving Erik with the feeling that that was the wrong thing to say. He struggled to find some way to mitigate his words, to make this right, but he came up empty. They stared at each other, unable to speak. It felt like Charles had him by the hand as they stood upon the edge of a great plunge together with safety on one side and ruin on the other and he was not sure which one the other man would lead him to.

“You’re not alone in this,” Charles finally admitted after an indeterminate amount of time.

He did not have the faculties to describe the relief the words imbued him with. He slowly closed the distance between them, giving Charles the chance to stop him or escape if he so wanted. He placed his hand on his shoulder comfortingly and pressed their foreheads together. Charles let out a shaky breath but didn’t resist. He moved his hand slowly from Charles’ shoulder up his neck to cup his wet face, his thumb brushing away the tear tracks and make-up smudges.

His lips tasted of salt and wine. He pulled away, waiting for Charles’ reaction. He let out another shuddering exhale but made no move to flee. Their lips moved over one another’s guardedly, cautiously, as if either expected the other to do something warranting a defensive response. It was like they had never kissed before, never learned the groves of the other’s body, never spent hours figuring out how to make the other writhe and beg, abandoning themselves to ecstasy. He was not sure if it was himself or Charles, but their tongues met. The contact drew something between a whimper and a sigh from Charles. The sound pierced Erik straight through, set his insides on fire and allowed him to kiss Charles with more familiarity and fervor. 

Charles made another greedy sighing noise and then threw his arms around Erik’s shoulders. He shied away from the touch unconsciously, his left shoulder flaring with pain from his battle injury. Charles did not pull away as he moved his hands to Erik’s hair instead, where he met another barrier in his circlet. He unceremoniously floated the metal off his head and towards the desk so Charles’ fingers could delve into his auburn locks, pulling him in closer. They stumbled back into the bookshelves, Charles pressed into the corner where two cases met. The pressing of bodies seemed to stoke another flare of desire between them. He could smell Charles’ scent getting stronger and stronger as he grew aroused, their kiss almost nothing more than two animals trying to devour one another. 

Charles began clawing ineffectively at his jacket, his linen shirt, his trousers, and waistband. He pulled away from the kiss only so he could kiss his way down Charles’ cheek. He made a move for his neck, but the cravat he wore impeded him. He began pulling at the knot, but he couldn’t detangle it with only one good hand. A growl of frustration left his lips and he moved on to Charles’ waistcoat instead, ripping the fabric apart rather than taking the time to unbutton it. Charles gasped but made no sound of protest as he finally managed to unbutton Erik’s trousers. He ripped open Charles’ linen shirt as well, exposing his pale chest and stomach. He leaned down and closed his mouth around the erect pebble of Charles’ nipple. Charles shivered above him, soft moans escaping him as Erik’s tongue glided along his skin to suck his other nipple into his mouth. 

Charles appeared to come alive then, pulling Erik’s linen shirt out of his undone trousers and dipping his hands beneath the fabric, his fingers tracing through the hair on his chest until his thumbs reached Erik’s nipple. He flicked and rolled them in between his soft fingers, before a hand began making a path downward until it passed the boundary of Erik’s trousers to grip his hardening length. He pulled away from Charles’ chest, a harsh breath pulled from him. It was too dry and not close enough, his drawers still preventing skin to skin contact.

Their lips met again, gnashing and caressing each other in turn. The exploratory grip of Charles’ fingers on his cock was stoking the need in his belly, making him want him more. Erik glanced down to try his hand at undoing Charles’ trousers. The younger man turned his attention to his ear, sucking the lobe and then eventually nipping at it, his teeth sinking into the skin as his fingertips ranged up his chest to dig into his uninjured shoulder as if to punish him. A growl escaped Erik again as he finally managed to unbutton Charles’ trousers, though he had no idea how he would manage to free him of it. The omega took matters into his own hands, pushing Erik back slightly so he could kick off one of his shoes and release a single leg from the constraints of his borrowed garments. Before Erik could make a move, Charles fluidly sunk to his knees and tugged Erik’s trousers and undergarments down impatiently, just enough to free his straining cock. He gave no warning before he wrapped his lips around him, pulling back with a pop. Erik groaned in abandon as Charles began bobbing his head back and forth, hollowing his cheeks.

This encounter was frantic, lust soaked. They had no concept of time. He could barely remember what was waiting for him outside of this room or why they should exercise restraint and not do something like this now, not when things were still so uncertain and emotional between them. Nevertheless, he wanted Charles as he had never wanted anything else.

He reached down and grabbed Charles by the shoulder, pulling him up so he could kiss him passionately once more, pressing him back into the bookshelves. No words were exchanged between them, but they were in tune with each other, voicelessly positioning themselves so Charles was supported against the bookshelf by Erik’s weight, one of his legs hitched up against his waist and the other upon a lower shelf. Charles flung an arm around his back and began pressing kisses to his hair as Erik pushed his face into Charles’ neck, inhaling his intoxicating scent while his length pressed against his wet entrance before he started sliding inside him. Charles’ stuttering breaths ghosted against the side of his face as he settled inside, his grip around him tightening ever so slightly. He pushed inside deeper until he was fully seated.

Illogically, his galloping heart settled its wild beating. The horrible fuzz in his head parted to allow thought. He could hear once more, the clock, the cicadas, the books shifting and shelves groaning from their combined weight. He pulled back and looked into Charles’ eyes. There was no conflict on his face, no regret. He was looking at Erik like he was something he didn’t understand but didn’t ever want to let go of.

“Erik,” he breathed out.

He felt a shiver go down his spine. This was the feeling he had wanted before when Charles first uttered his true name: this pleasure, this satisfaction, this ridiculous moment of contemplation of whether his name had ever had as much meaning as it did when it left this man’s mouth.

“Charles,” he replied, trying to imbue as much of his love and devotion into the name. Charles’ breath hitched and it struck Erik that he probably didn’t have to. He was certain he was projecting wildly. He wouldn’t have been able to hide the truth even if he had wanted to.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss that was soft and delicate to Charles’ rosy lips.

“I love you,” Erik admitted against his lips. 

Charles’ breathing faltered and pitched. Erik was almost sure he wouldn’t reply.

“I love you,” Charles returned, emphasizing the all-too-important sentiment in such a way that left no room for questions. 

It felt like some puzzle piece that had been just slightly askew was finally righted as he heard the words he longed for.

He gathered Charles closer as best as he could and began moving in and out of him. Charles sighed with ecstasy, murmuring encouragements in his ear as the leg he had against Erik’s waist pulled him deeper. 

He couldn’t go back now. He knew it deep within his soul. He would marry this man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to anyone who caught some of the inspirations/references in this chapter. I’ll be posting a full list of things that helped me complete this work in the last chapter.


	18. Indecision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik makes an counteroffer to Lord Frost’s and Charles makes a choice.

Charles laid in the bed designated his, staring up at the ceiling in the dark room. He did not know how long he had been here, his mind unable to calm down enough to find rest. The night had settled, quiet and deep, yet he felt as if it were stretched out before him like a vast crossing he was ill-equipped to undertake, oppressive and heavy. He glanced to his right. Erik laid dozing, his auburn curls spread out against the canary pillowcase. Few words had been exchanged between them. After they had both climaxed in the study, they stumbled their way to the guest bedroom where they continued their coupling, heedless of the fact that it would seem odd and unseemly for the prince and his mystery guest to disappear after only one dance. Propriety had been the furthest thing from their minds, retreating into their shared desperation as they had the first night they slept together. This was not the same kind of deep yearning. There was a sense of melancholy despite their mutual admissions of love. Charles could not help but feel this may be the last night they got to do something like this.

Lord Frost had a valid point in many ways. On the one hand, he wanted to believe that no one would be so hurt if he and Erik were together. If Erik’s entire kingship was truly undermined by Charles, he had more power than he ever imagined himself to possess. On the other hand, their relationship would not just affect Erik’s kingship, it could affect the man Erik was. He did not want him compromising his character or beliefs so that he and Charles could be together. Already Erik was doing so, perpetuating the idea of true bondage when he didn’t even believe in it. It seemed a small thing, but perhaps it wouldn’t always be. It could set a bad example, undermine his moral goodness to his people and thus his kingship. Anything he did would reflect on his family, his house, and the throne in perpetuity. If Erik were less than beloved because of Charles, that would negatively reflect on Anya, Wanda, and Pietro when they reached majority. It would affect David, make him a pariah for something he could hardly control.

He knew he was being horribly pessimistic, but he could not indulge in his usual enthusiasm at present, couldn’t see the possibility of a positive outcome. He let out a sigh and rubbed a tired hand over his face.

“You’re thinking too loudly.”

Charles glanced beside him at the older man. One of his green eyes were cracked open as he watched him contemplatively. 

“Was I projecting?”

“A bit. Have you slept at all?”

“No.”

Erik made a small noise of disapproval as he moved over to Charles’ side of the bed until he was hovering above him, held up on his uninjured arm. Charles’ eyes were drawn to Erik’s now unbound shoulder. He traced the angry, red raised skin from where the musket ball entered. It wasn’t a catastrophic wound, but Erik could’ve been killed. What would Charles have done if he had? He would’ve been beside himself, grieved and distraught and heartbroken beyond belief. Yet, here he was, rejecting Erik when it seemed like they had a chance. A dubious chance, but a chance. He sighed again, leaning up to press a light kiss to the wound before dropping back to his pillow, not meeting Erik’s eyes. His gaze was drawn to the flowers sitting on the nightstand. Red chrysanthemums, white carnations, pink peonies, and blue irises. Their meanings weren’t lost on him: love, luck, faith, and hope. He wished he could believe in that more than he did at present.

“What are you thinking about?” Erik asked after a moment of quiet, his long fingers tracing across Charles’ cheekbones.

“What do you suppose I’m thinking about?”

“Humour me.”

Charles took a deep breath, his eyes still locked on the petals glowing in the moonlight the open window let in.

“I am arguing with myself about valid cynicism versus naïve optimism.”

“Which side is winning?”

“They are neck and neck for the moment.”

“Can optimism truly not win the day?”

“It can, but should it? Would that bear too much equivalence to selfishness?”

“Can love ever truly be selfish?”

“Without a doubt.”

Erik’s line of inquiry was thus far given with careful detachment, but his next question allowed Charles to glean some of the vulnerability hiding beneath the surface.

“Whom would you offend by living with me?”

Charles’ lip twisted, bitter and wry.

“Myself, if it is not for the right reasons.”

“What would be the wrong reasons?”

“Venal desire. I have lived my life ruled by my baser urges in the past. In doing so, I hurt my sister, left her vulnerable, failed her. I can’t help but see this situation as another form of that same crossroad I found myself at then. This time it is David I have to think of rather than Raven.”

“Do you think I would ever hurt him?”

“No, but you are not a man unto yourself. A part of you belongs to Genosha, belongs to your people, just as they belong to you. I am loath to intrude on that sacred communion. They may react poorly if they view David or me as an interloper in said bond. I don’t want him caught up in the politics of it all.”

“If we were together, Genosha would embrace you. They would see that you are a rare and beautiful soul with ideas that would only help the progress and growth of this country, not hinder it.”

Charles didn’t respond to that. They were quiet for a long while, Erik’s fingers drawing unidentifiable patterns into his skin. He could feel the alpha’s gaze on him, heavy and meaningful, but he still did not look his way. Erik shifted, his digits retreating from Charles’ face.

“Can I have your hand?” The alpha inquired.

He quirked a brow but relinquished the limb. He looked over as he felt Erik slipping a warm ring onto his fourth finger. He held his hand to his face to examine it. Erik had been wearing this ring as one of his adornments upon his pinky in the hall. It was a gold band with a single diamond inlay around which was a floral pattern engraved into the metal. It was simple, elegant yet lovely.

“How does it feel? It’s not too loose, is it?” 

Charles shook his head wordlessly.

“It was my mother’s. It was passed to me when she died along with a few other pieces she owned.”

He continued staring at the ring as it sat on his finger comfortably. The diamond shined in the moonlight, creating an effect that thoroughly captured his attention, so Erik’s next words caught him off guard.

“Marry me.”

Charles’ eyes widened at the sudden declaration as he snapped his head up to look at the prince.

“What?” He practically squeaked out, his voice higher than normal in his shock.

Erik quirked an amused smile at Charles’ reaction.

“I had a plan, you know? I was going to take things slowly, cautiously, show you that you can trust me with your heart, with your love, with your life. Lord Frost has rather made sure that that timetable is exponentially pushed up.”

“What does that have to do with you proposing to me?” 

“I’m a man of actions more than I have ever been one of words. You are the more eloquent of us. I could spend hours telling you how much I love you, how much I want you, and I don’t think that you would believe me. Whether it is a lack of trust in me or yourself or both, I’m unsure. Either way, I think you believe that I would never choose you. Not really.”

Charles opened his mouth to refute the statement before closing it again.

“So, I will let my actions speak for me more than my words. If it is a lack of belief in my conviction or my depth of feeling for you that holds you at bay, let this be the proof you need. I don’t want you leagues away on a continent with some man who isn’t me. I want you to stay. And I don’t just mean in the city. It would be just as worse to walk past you one day as if we are strangers, as if we haven’t shared what we have, as if we mean nothing. I want you to stay here, in this castle, with me. Marry me.”

“B—But your council, your kingship… there are expectations, Erik. You have a duty as king to marry someone who is of a match with you.”

“Who could be more of a match for me than you?”

“Anyone! I am a liability that your young kingship can’t afford.”

“You are the man I want, the only one who has caused my heart to move with a passionate love for the first time in three years. We belong together. You, me, Anya, David, Wanda, Pietro, we are all bound to one another in affection. I’m thoroughly convinced of it now and shall not be moved from the position. We are of a kind, you and I. Whether we are connected through earthly love or cosmic divination makes no matter to me. I want you by my side. Marry me.”

Charles let out a laugh of disbelief that bordered on hysterical. He had felt close to the brink of madness a few times tonight on account of this man. Was this what love did to you? Was it always meant to be this feverish and frenetic, this fraught? Surely not.

“It’s completely insane. _You’re_ insane.”

“I’m okay being insane. Charles…”

Erik moved his hand to caress his cheek, rubbing his thumb over the arch of it.

“I have thought of it and even attempted to convince myself to let you go, but I cannot live a lie. Can you? Do you think you will be able to ingratiate yourself in Boston society, into another loveless marriage, knowing full well the potential for something so much greater lays across an entire ocean?”

“What do you intend to happen?” Charles asked in kind, dodging the question entirely. 

Erik was not to be deterred.

“I intend to pass through life with you at my side. I intend to make a home here with you. I intend to claim you and mark you as mine. I intend to marry you before the entire kingdom, so they know you are mine. I intend to provide you with as much safety and happiness as I can. I intend to love you until I die.”

“It’s a fantasy. It can’t happen,” Charles protested.

“It can if we will it. You don’t give yourself enough credit, but I recognize your brilliance, compassion, care, natural sympathy for others, and your unpolluted mind. I admire you for it. I know you would have the people’s best interest at heart. I know you understand how the game of politics is played. I know you can handle the nobles at court. You have already intrigued the council in the space of a few minutes. A few more and they will see what I already have, the value you will bring to this country, the throne, and our future.”

“You’re biased. You can’t objectively speak about this. You’re seeing what you want to see because… because you love me.”

Charles felt his throat constricting as he finally admitted that aloud. It was something of a revelation to hear it from Erik. Not the first time someone had said that to him, but the first time Charles ever believed them and reciprocated. Erik was a prince who could have anyone he wanted and yet Erik wanted him, Erik admired him, Erik loved him, Erik wanted to marry him. He was certain men and women the world over would curse him for a fool for dallying to answer. He wondered what Raven would say. She would probably be horribly amused by this— Charles, driven by love for someone rather than lust. 

“I love you. I love my children. I love Genosha. Those three things don’t need to be mutually exclusive.”

“You stubborn fool, you would condemn us both to a lifetime embattled if we stay together. You realize that?”

“I would willingly court condemnation for you. I would stand before anyone in this world and freely admit what is in my heart. They may snicker and sneer, they may regard me coldly and turn their backs one by one if they wish. I will know who my true friends are then, and I will be better for it. We would face the world together. It would be worth it. _You_ are worth it.”

For reasons Charles only belatedly fathomed, those words struck him dumb, clenching around his heart and mind in a way that even Erik’s confession of love did not. Charles was worth Erik taking on entire centuries of tradition for. He was worth it to him the same way Magda was. This was real. It wasn’t biology. It wasn’t trauma and tragedy manipulating their emotions. It wasn’t down to convenience. Their love was true.

Charles leaned up and pressed his lips to Erik’s. The kiss was soft and sweet and tasted of possibility. He pulled away and wrapped an arm around Erik’s back so he could have the proper leverage to rest his forehead against the metallokinetic’s. They stayed in that embrace for only a minute before Erik was compelled to speak.

“Is that a yes?”

Charles opened his mouth to answer, but the word got stuck in his throat and panic seized him. He took a breath and let the answer fall away. He wasn’t ready to respond with an affirmation or a denial.

“I need time to think. Can you wait?”

Disappointment glinted in Erik’s eyes before it vanished.

“I will wait forever if you ask.”

A rueful smile alighted Charles’ mouth.

“I’m not as cruel as all that.”

He moved to take the ring off, but Erik stopped him.

“Keep it. Whether the answer is yes or no, I want you to have it.”

“It was your mother’s, I can’t accept it.”

“Please?”

Charles opened his mouth to deny him again before closing it. If this was the only affirmative answer he could give him, he might as well. Erik pressed forward and their lips met once more in a solid yet undemanding caress.

“I will be sequestered for the next week, starting today actually. The children and I are to sit shiva for my father for seven days. It’s a customary mourning period in our religion. We won’t be leaving the designated dwelling. We can have visitors, but maybe that will give you the time you need to think.”

Charles nodded and pulled Erik into another kiss, this one more insistent as he shifted so the alpha was settled between his legs, their naked bodies flush against one another.

“Charles?” Erik whispered against his lips.

“You’ll have to leave soon. Make love to me once more before you go.”

“Anything you want,” Erik responded. 

There was an implicit and sincere promise and weight behind the words that caused a shiver to go through his body. Erik pressed a kiss to his lips in answer and shifted so they were comfortable and in no danger of hurting the prince’s shoulder or Charles’ recently healed ribs as their bodies began reacting to their new intent.

He resolved to lose himself in their passion and leave his misgivings to be re-examined with daybreak.

**~*~*~**

When Charles woke, sunlight had replaced the nocturnal glow in his bedroom. He was only just barely aware of his surroundings, his body pleasantly strung out but relaxed. He knew Erik was gone. He had woken briefly when the prince was leaving, felt him press a kiss to his forehead and utter final goodbyes before slipping out of the room. Charles shifted and stared at his hand as it rested beside him on the pillow. The gleaming gold band made it clear that Erik’s proposal was not just something he had dreamed up but a real offer, as real as Lord Frost’s.

He sighed to himself and let his gaze fall away from the ring. A week. He had a week to decide what he was going to do once and for all. Then he had to live with the consequences of that decision. 

He rubbed a hand over his face tiredly before a shuffling in his bedroom alerted him that he was not alone. He sat up abruptly, anxiety and caution putting him on edge and only relaxed when he caught a glimpse of Moira throwing salts and oils into a tub of steaming water. His skin was tacky and his muscles sore from his and Erik’s activities. A bath was exactly what he needed.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice cracking. He wasn’t sure if that was down to sleep, Erik, or both. 

Moira gave him a polite but knowing smile in return. It struck Charles that she probably knew what happened last night. Here he was, only clothed by his sheets, his hair a mess, covered in Erik’s scent and his skin reddened and bruised from Erik’s hands and mouth. He blushed, but Moira did not seem inclined to judge him.

“Morning. The prince asked that I draw this bath for you before he and his children left for the funeral.”

“Is it so late?”

“Only half-past ten, but the funeral procession will be a long one seeing as how it is for the king. David has already been cared for. He is fed, changed, and happily playing in the adjoining room.”

Charles reached out and found David’s consciousness. He was focused on his blocks and blissfully ignorant of the world around him.

“Thank you, Moira. I usually don’t sleep in this late,” he replied as he pushed himself out of bed and towards the bathtub.

“Well, strenuous activity can make one more lethargic than usual,” she commented airily. 

Charles paused, momentarily shocked at her forwardness before an involuntary snicker left him.

“That is true,” he conceded, sinking into the tub with a sigh.

Moira handed him a cloth and a bar of soap, which he accepted happily. 

“I thought I might give you the grand tour of the palace today. Going into the city on the day of the funeral is inadvisable, so just the castle for now. We can explore the city on the morrow if you would like. We have seven days until the prince comes out of mourning for his coronation. He can have visitors so long as you follow the customs of entering a shiva house, but it is good for you to occupy your time with other things, make new acquaintances and friends, find new interests, settle yourself into Krakoa if you are to be here for long.”

Charles bit his lip at the last sentence, a wave of anxiety unconsciously leaving him.

“Lord Charles?”

“Just Charles, please.”

“Charles, are you alright?”

He looked up at the beta undecidedly. He never talked to someone else about this who was not biased one way or the other. Lord Frost wanted something from him. Anya wanted something from him. Erik wanted something from him. Lady Proudstar wanted something from him. Logan was not completely unbiased. He never cared for such things as decorum, he just wanted Charles to be happy no matter what barriers he barreled through in the process, what towers came tumbling down. Beyond that, he had no friend to puzzle through his conflicts with. If Tony were here… then again, Tony would hardly have been very sympathetic to Charles’ reticence. He was never the cautious type. Perhaps if Pepper were here or Lord Rhodes or Sir Steven or Lady Natasha, they could’ve given him prudent advice. As it was, he was friendless besides Erik and Logan. Moira was a very new acquaintance, but he thought she could be a dear friend in future, and she didn’t personally want anything from either himself or Erik. Perhaps she was the perfect person to talk to about this.

Once he opened his mouth to begin speaking, it became easy to explain everything: Erik’s subterfuge, their attraction, his inner conflict, his fears and doubts, the choice set ahead of him. By the time he finished, the water had gone cold and his skin was pruning. He stepped out of the frigid bath, accepting the robe a contemplative Moira gave him with a nod before making his way to the privacy partition.

“I don’t know, maybe I’m being intransigent for no reason other than the fact that it’s easier to be contrary,” he shared as he dried himself and looked over the clothes Moira had thrown over the partition.

“I think your concerns are valid ones. This decision is not a simple one by any stretch of the imagination. One can’t be expected to make it quickly.”

“I had much less caution at Logan’s inn.”

“Falling in love with a blacksmith and falling in love with a crown prince are two very separate circumstances, each deserving of their due diligence. Can I assume that in the emotional upheaval of the matter at hand, you have not yet had the chance to go over the pros and cons constructively and concisely?”

Charles was a little taken aback by Moira’s detached and analytical demeanor before deciding it was precisely the disposition he needed to hear at present.

“No, I haven’t,” he admitted, pulling on his trousers.

“There are two offers on the table. Both come with risks and require you to make concessions. Lord Frost’s offer comes with the benefits of anonymity, privacy, financial security so long as the manor you are to help run remains profitable and he has offered you a monthly stipend so poverty would not be in your immediate future. He would halt any legal proceedings your ex-mate could wish to make against you and pay him a sufficient amount to leave you alone in perpetuity. On the other hand, this offer would put you on a new continent with no one you know, in an unfamiliar environment in a country only recently torn apart by civil war. It is not unlike your arrival to Genosha when one looks at the bare bones of it, but America is a good bit larger and more complicated than Genosha. Lord Frost’s offer also comes with a marriage to a man you do not know and whose nature you couldn’t guess. He may or may not be similar to your first husband or may just be intractable enough to allow you little freedom. Not perfect but, by and large, not an unorthodox proposition for someone of your station and breeding. Then there is Prince Erik. His offer comes with the benefit of established and mutual affection. His children are already acquainted with you and your son with him. You will have financial stability in this relationship. The prince has expressed a liberal view on your personal freedoms. He may not have the connection with the Markos that Lord Frost does, but certainly has the funds to pay them off. That could also lead to a diplomatic quandary should they refuse to negotiate. However, that is a risk in both scenarios. There will be little privacy or anonymity if you become prince consort. You will partly belong to the people. That means making certain sacrifices on what you can and can’t say, do, wear, and express. There is also the matter of this true bond. I don’t know much about them, but if Lady Proudstar says it is real, I am inclined to believe her. I don’t know what affect you being across the sea will have on the health of yourself and the prince, but I’m moved to believe it won’t be pleasant. All in all, both offers would see you facing some difficulty and some reprieve. I suppose it is just a matter of what you are willing to trade away.”

Charles stepped out from behind the screen and approached the table where Moira sat.

“When you put it like that, it seems a little easier to puzzle it out. I really could’ve used you a few days ago when I was spinning my wheels, unsure of what was up and what was down.”

Moira gave him a kind smile.

“Do you trust him?”

Charles paused in tucking his linen shirt into his trousers.

“I probably shouldn’t, should I?”

“I can’t answer that question for you, all I can ask is whether you do or not.”

“In some ways, yes, in others… it’s hard. Not just because of the façade, but…”

“But?”

“He is a man of singular focus and the way he looks at me… it’s frightening.”

“Why?”

Charles’ lip twisted.

“I don’t really know, to be honest. I just know the thought that he means what he says is exceptionally terrifying.”

“The prince rarely ever says something he doesn’t mean, not unless it is in service of his family’s protection or his people’s. I feel I must warn you, Prince Erik can be quite persistent when he is of a mood. He will respect your wishes but will fight for you. I’ve seen him do it before.”

“Did you know Lady Magda personally?”

A fond smile tinged with sadness crossed Moira’s lips.

“I did. She was a bright woman, kind, soft-spoken but she was able to help calm the prince when he was in his more volatile moods. They loved each other very much. She was suitable by societal standards to marry Prince Erik and was still scorned and slandered by some nobles at court and unfavored by Lord Frost.” 

“Why?”

“House Maximoff owns only a small keep and has never been particularly politically savvy. She was discouraged many times, but she always rallied, presented a smile and proved herself to all those who judged her. I have no doubt you can do the same. From what I viewed of the high table last night, you weren’t doing too badly. You should have more faith in yourself.” 

“Erik said something similar. He said I don’t see myself clearly. He can hardly be objective about this, biased as he is.”

“Well, I’m not and I believe much the same. Why can’t you believe that?”

Charles opened his mouth to answer before closing it. He used to be so confident, eager, and spirited. If he wanted something, he made sure that he got it. He knew how to charm the literal pants off anyone he met. If he were the same Charles he was in York, he would’ve argued Lord Frost down and defiantly accepted Erik’s proposal, partly just to prove the point that he could. Now, he was a man who got so cowed by some nobleman he didn’t know that he retreated in tears. What happened to him? Moira watched him thinking to himself with a keen eye before she spoke again.

“I am not an omega nor Gifted, so some of the difficulties you have faced are not ones I can relate to, but I do know that if someone pounds your worthlessness into your head long enough, it becomes harder to doubt it, even if just subconsciously. Joseph is dead and sometimes I can still hear his voice in my head telling me to stand straighter or smile wider. Telling me I am a failure, a whore, a burden, unwanted. Convincing myself he was wrong is easier said than done. I have always believed that that kind of validation cannot come from someone else, but it doesn’t hurt. It can tide you over until you can believe it yourself.”

Charles thought of all the ways Kurt and Cain had abused him and denigrated him, how his mother ignored and neglected him, how most of his friends turned their backs on him. He always tried to keep himself hearty, assure himself of his own validity and worth. However, that didn’t mean the barbs didn’t nestle into his heart. Outside of Tony and Logan, Erik was the only person to see him for himself, compliment him without ulterior motives, want him for his mind, to see Charles in ways he didn’t see himself. Not for a long time.

“It’s something to think about. You don’t have to make the decision today, and you shouldn’t. You have seven days to dwell on it. Don’t drive yourself crazy, just consider all angles as best you can. And don’t get mired in doubts about selfishness. I’ve lived my life for others and where has that gotten me? A childless widow with a stained reputation thanks to my estranged husband. If I was not so concerned with the sensibilities of others, I would’ve divorced Joseph and lived my life for myself. Self-regard doesn’t always equate to self-centeredness or egocentricity.”

“I never thought of it like that,” he mused.

He was quiet for a while, allowing Moira’s words to wash over him, settle in his heart and in his brain before the brunette woman roused.

“Let us leave the heavy discussions for another time. After you break your fast, I will show you all around the palace. It will be a great adventure.”

Charles smiled and nodded in reply, deciding to immerse himself in something that did not make his head spin with confusion. His problems weren’t going to leave but he was in a new city, he may as well enjoy it.

**~*~*~**

Charles had never truly realized how slowly a week could pass when one was paying attention to time, actively counting minutes and seconds as they went past. It was possible time felt so laborious because the tugging in his chest kept getting more and more insistent by the day. The pull to go to Erik was strong, but not all-consuming. Not yet anyway. Logan had said he held out for months before it became debilitating. If he were across the sea, it would be much longer. Years of yearning, longing, wanting with no recourse. Charles was headstrong, but he wasn’t sure he could hold out that long. A week was what he had to work with for the time being. 

He did not spend his week idling. On the first day, Moira took him and David on a tour of the palace as promised. It had taken nearly the whole day as Charles had ended up getting into a debate with Lord Janos, Lady Elaine and Lady Amelia about Walt Whitman’s self-titled poem and the Keatsian influences therein. That took up two hours until David demanded lunch. Moira had been bemused the entire time, shocked that Lord Janos had spoken to someone for such a long time about something other than politics. Charles had shrugged it off. He always found literature to be a natural icebreaker. He was of the firm belief that everyone had the right to literacy, rich or poor. He had capped off the day attempting to teach Moira how to play chess with middling success.

He spent the next day alone. He wrote letters to Logan and Tony, updating them on what was going on as much as he cared to before he lost himself in the library for a while, aggregating books that piqued his interest. He retreated to his bedroom, where he read aloud to David for a while then indulged in whatever his son wanted him to do. 

On the third day, Moira took them into town where they explored the various vendors and stalls. They ate foods that Charles had never heard of, bought things he hadn’t had the funds to purchase in a while, and talked to people whom Moira was acquainted with. He took a shine to Lord Henry, the son of Lord Norton. His scientific inclination led to a spirited discussion between them and had seen Charles invited to dine with the McCoys. It had been a surprisingly pleasant evening. Lord Norton was a shrewd man but kind and open to hearing more from Charles about his views on omega freedoms while Lady Edna needled him with an avalanche of questions about Westchesterian customs and fashion before plying him with advice on parenthood. He wondered how such an exuberant woman and jovial man created such a timid son but saw shades of their natures in Henry, who insisted on being called Hank, when he spoke of science and Moira seemed able to get him to loosen from his rigid shyness through her naturally inviting demeanor.

The fourth day was the one that saw Charles’ thus far enjoyable week broken up with visits and meetings with several individuals who he would’ve rather steered clear of. Lady Proudstar was the first. The elderly woman had shown up in a flurry of demands veiled in amiability and forced him to join her on a trip to the Great Synagogue. It was even more magnificent inside, but he could not help but feel uncomfortable as he stepped within. He was an outsider and a gentile. He foolishly wondered if he would combust before he could make it more than a foot. Lady Proudstar had noticed his expression but waved him off.

“I’m not Jewish myself. Some in Genosha have historically viewed my people as pagans, savages. Sentiment has turned for the better since the prince’s grandmother, Queen Olivia, took the throne and sought to bridge our peoples, but I don’t always feel comfortable here either. Their god has not seen fit to smite me yet and I have had a significantly longer time to offend him, so I think you will be fine.”

The words were barely reassuring. He was not to gain any comfort from the visit as he was then forced to sit down with a man named Rabbi Elisha and recount, in excruciating details, his relationship with Erik. He was certain he would be ordered to perform a walk of shame through the city so everyone knew just how sullied he was. Maybe this was Lord Frost’s plan to publicly embarrass him and ensure there was no way Erik could marry him.

“You need not look so much like we plan to publicly flog you,” Lady Proudstar reassured.

Charles gave her a doubtful look.

“This is merely to confirm officially what I already know: that you and the prince are a true-bonded pair. The church will recognize it now too, won’t you, Rabbi?”

“I am never as loath to agree with you as you believe I am, Lady Paloma. I have no reticence in proclaiming that from my interview with yourself and Prince Erik that you have a true bond between the two of you, Lord Charles.”

Charles stared at the pair of them, unsure what to say. This felt surreal, like it was happening to someone outside of himself. It was one thing for Logan or Moira or himself to speculate about it, but having such officious individuals telling him made it both more real and somehow even more fantastic.

“I…,” he trailed off, his mind unsure.

“This must be a shock.”

“I’ve been told it was a possibility before. I don’t think I took it seriously. What’s meant to happen now?”

“I usually advise true-bonded pairs that completing the bond via claiming is in their best interest for their health as well as their mate’s.”

Charles bit his lip, looking away.

“What if one completes the claiming but separates nonetheless?”

Both the rabbi and the lady were quiet long enough for him to look back to them. They were thoughtful and having a conversation with their eyes that Charles didn’t bother to intrude upon.

“I suppose it’s possible for one to take that action. The insistence of the pull will be duller after the bond is completed but not absent. It will be easier to manage, but heats will be grueling without your true mate present.”

Charles flicked his eyes away momentarily. He had not experienced a heat in a while. He couldn’t remember the last time clearly, but he did remember desperation, bone-deep aching, and Cain. That was a month before his divorce, which meant he was nearing two and a half months without a heat. He should have had at least one already if his cycle was going to return to normalcy. If he hadn’t had a heat yet, well, that could mean…

He didn’t voice the concern. Rabbi Elisha continued, oblivious to his thoughts.

“I don’t know of any true-bonded pairs that have willingly chosen to separate, but there are some instances throughout history where circumstances have caused pairs to part,” the rabbi informed him carefully.

“However, I would not say it is an advisable action to take. Beyond the religious implications of turning your back on such a blessing, it is hard to say what toll it may take on you mentally, emotionally, psychologically,” Lady Proudstar added.

Charles bristled at her chiding tone.

“Is this bond not truly as much a prison as a blessing? It seems from your estimations that I have no choice in the matter, no freedom to decide for myself.”

Charles did not run from being trapped in Salem with Cain to be trapped in Krakoa with Erik. What was this bond, imposing its will upon his life, if not equivalent to Kurt, who had done the same and forced him into something he did not want? However, he couldn’t overlook the fact that Erik wasn’t Cain. His feelings for them couldn’t be more different. Would he be more receptive to Erik’s proposal if there was not some cosmic force seemingly taking his choice from him? Would he have made the same decisions if this otherworldly pull between him and Erik did not exist? He didn’t know.

Charles was startled as Lady Proudstar began to titter and giggle to herself.

“Have I said something humorous?” He asked indignantly.

“I was just remembering my own youth and wondering if I too was ever so short-sighted.”

Charles bristled again as Rabbi Elisha lightly rebuked the elderly woman for her bluntness.

“Choice and freedom are not the same. There is freedom in choice, but regardless you do have a choice. It is not an easy one, but the choice is yours to make. Freedom of choice does not preclude freedom from consequence. You may choose to complete the bond and then leave for Boston as Lord Frost has offered, or you may choose to stay, or you may choose not to complete the bond at all. All choices you are free to make. All choices that come with their own sets of consequences as every choice does.”

Charles looked at the woman wide-eyed, surprised by the knowledge she had.

“I haven’t lived this long without having ears everywhere, dear.”

This should be a clear example of exactly how he didn’t want to live his life, with no privacy, no guarantee that his secrets would ever remain just that, but he found himself curiously numb about it.

“You don’t realize, do you? You are the most powerful man in Genosha.”

Charles looked up at her with confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Considering that our king’s future lies within your grasp at this very moment, I would say that makes you quite the force to be reckoned with.”

Charles looked away. He didn’t feel as powerful as Lady Proudstar seemed to think he was. He felt like a pawn on both a political chessboard and a cosmic one as well. Certainly, it would be easier to give in, but something within him demanded he did not. Often in his life, his body was the only thing he could control. Kurt and Cain took that control away from him. Perhaps he was denying Erik for the simple fact that he could, that he had control of this situation. Erik would not force himself on him, he would back off if Charles said, he would let him go. In that way, he did have power over Erik. Thinking of it like that made it seem more insidious and manipulative than he wanted to believe he was, even if just subconsciously. 

Still, if he did accept this and married Erik, what would he do after that? Would he just be an ornament, meant to throw parties for the nobility and do little else? Erik wouldn’t stop him from pursuing his interests, but he would no longer just be Charles, he would be the king’s mate. He would not have the same responsibilities as Erik, but he would be expected to set an example for things as trivial as fashion trends to other essential constructs such as moral hierarchies. Laughable considering how loose his morals were in the past, at least when it came to chastity. Would he just sit on his arse all day waiting for Erik to finish working so they could retire to bed together? What would be his political purpose?

“The point, Lord Charles, is this bond has not stripped you of your autonomy. It has presented you with a choice, just as Lord Frost did, just as the prince did. No one and nothing in the universe can truly choose for you, not even Erik.”

That, at least, rang true. Erik wasn’t forcing him into anything, not like Kurt or Cain. He was willing to follow Charles’ lead in this, go with his wishes even if it meant Erik was left behind. The idea of it did not settle well in Charles’ soul. He couldn’t imagine sailing away and never knowing what would become of the only man he ever loved. Still, something was holding him back. 

With Kurt, he had no opportunity to fight, no avenue for resistance. It wasn’t fair to Erik that he was exercising those missed opportunities now when the situations were so different from one another. It also wasn’t fair to dismiss all of Erik’s feelings and his own as a result of this bond between them. Charles was not comfortable ceding control of himself and his actions to some intangible thing, divine or otherwise. This bond was no exception.

“I will think about this matter carefully. Thank you for your time,” he said to the older duo before standing up, bowing, and walking out of the Synagogue as quickly as propriety allowed. 

He walked back to the palace slowly, taking in his surroundings at a leisurely pace. The city was bustling if a bit subdued, still recovering from their previous plights. Charles glanced around at the people here. Friendly and open as they had been with him thus far, he wondered if that would remain the same if he was presented as Prince Charles. He continued his walk slowly, greeting people who Moira had introduced him to and stopping to talk to those who beckoned him over, most likely attracted to his newness. 

He was exhausted by the time he got back and wanted to drop into bed, but a voice calling his name stopped him. He turned around and was both surprised and apprehensive to see Lord Helmut approaching him. He stood up straighter as the other omega stopped across from him, a civil smile on his face.

“My lord,” he greeted, bowing respectfully.

“No need to stand on ceremony, Lord Charles. I have not seen much of you. I admit, it has been a disappointment.”

“Oh?”

“Your words intrigued me so at the feast. I was eager to continue our conversation, but we seem to keep missing one another.”

“I thought…” Charles trailed off, not willing to finish that sentence in public.

“I have been called upon frequently as of late, I apologize,” he eventually said, reverting to courtesy. 

Lord Helmut nodded but there was a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Join me, will you?” 

He offered his arm. After a moment of hesitation, Charles looped his through the taller man’s, allowing himself to be led deeper into the castle despite his discomfort.

“I have been to visit the prince and his children to pay my respects, have you?”

“No. I haven’t had the chance.”

Lord Helmut looked at him curiously.

“I would think, given your relationship, a visit would be natural.”

Charles stared at him, a denial on the tip of his tongue before he dismissed it. What was the point?

“We are taking some space from one another before we decide what should come next,” he settled on.

Lord Helmut nodded, showing no feeling one way or the other. Charles would’ve expected elation at their distance.

“From the conversations we have had, I have found the prince to be a passionate man, driven by his emotions more than he would ever admit. That being the case, I don’t find it so strange, his feelings towards you.”

Charles felt a pang of guilt even though the other omega didn’t sound hurt or accusatory.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? You didn’t call me to Krakoa, you didn’t send that letter, you never implied your hand to me. You have done nothing to me personally. In fact, you have given me hope, Lord Charles.”

“Me?”

“Oh, yes. I had written off love altogether, especially when I settled as an omega. I know what history has stated we are to be relegated to: silent, submissive broodmares. The way you and the prince look at one another, that is not domination, that is not solely lust, that is love. I wish I could be so lucky.”

Charles looked at the lord, so many thoughts clamoring in his head for attention. He voiced none of them.

“I think that I would much rather wait for the man or woman I could share that emotion with rather than enter a union for my father’s sake. He will be angry, but he will survive,” Lord Helmut continued, a small smile on his face.

“Have you set a date for the wedding yet?” He asked, nodding to the ring on Charles’ finger.

“This is… I haven’t said yes yet.”

Lord Helmut lifted an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“No,” he replied shortly.

He expected Lord Helmut to think him insane or express veiled happiness despite his words in support of their relationship, but he just nodded understandingly.

“I didn’t agree when my father first brought the match with Prince Erik to me. Yes, he is a prince, but I wondered what married life would be like for me. Would I be tantamount to a prisoner or a doll meant to be admired and nothing more? I would’ve hated that. I have always had my position among my men, fighting, leading. I fought hard for it and to have it all taken away by marriage, to be consigned to spouse and nothing more, was unconscionable to me. It took my mother assuring me that I had the power to spearhead my own initiatives as prince consort that made the decision for me. I could create my own fighting force, I could continue to lead my men if I only convinced my husband of it. Something tells me whatever it is you wish to do, you could convince Prince Erik of. Tell me, what is your dream for yourself?”

Charles took a moment to think. What did he want? What dream had he been keen to chase that was ultimately snatched from him?

“I wanted to open a school for Gifted children. My father was going to, but he never got the chance. I still have all of his plans,” Charles admitted.

“Then do it. You will more than have the means and influence to do so as prince consort.”

Charles glanced at the other man with narrowed eyes.

“Why do you care? I would’ve thought you would be happy with my reticence.”

“Contrary to what many appear to believe, I am not content being in a marriage I know for a fact will remain loveless. Furthermore, I agreed to try with the prince because I knew that it would put me in a position where I could help other omegas. Many like us break convention but don’t have the luxury of our last names or our blood, and even that doesn’t protect us completely. You have a chance to make things better for all of us.”

Charles discreetly shook his head. Between Lord Frost, Lady Proudstar and Lord Helmut, why did they believe Charles possessed this unfathomable amount of power? He asked as much.

“Because you have the prince’s heart, and thus his ear. You are undoubtedly in a position to effect change.”

He stiffened a bit.

“I won’t manipulate Erik for my own ends.”

“Of course not. You won’t have to. That is the point. He will listen to you. That just may be enough. You won’t be a concubine, you’ll be a prince, a true and equal mate. You’ll have a voice as his advisor, perhaps his most trusted one. That means something for the progress of this country, for omegas everywhere if you use that position and power wisely and unselfishly.”

Charles paused, taking that in. Erik did listen to him when he spoke and some of the other members of the council had shown interest in his views, mainly Lord Norton. He must have shared that because Lady N’Dare and Lady Elaine had been giving him assessing looks. He could be in a position where not only could he open his father’s school, but he could continue to promote omega freedoms and civil liberties in Genosha. He may even be able to help abolish the rule outlawing alpha fraternization. He could help make biological divorces more readily available. He was confident Hank and Dr. Strange would get along famously, and that would benefit everyone. Genosha was not Westchester, but how many people here were stuck in situations similar to his own previous captivity? He had the personal experience to understand their plight and would be in a position to help them and many others, which was what he had always wanted to do but figured he never would get the chance to. His interest in science was never selfish but rather to understand nature and how it worked for the betterment of humanity. Maybe he wouldn’t be helping others through science the way he had wanted, but he would still be helping others, and he would even have a chance to teach if he so desired. It would be his choice then, wouldn’t it? He would be a kept man, but Erik would be too.

 _“I’m yours, heart and soul,”_ Erik had said. 

He did not view his love for Charles as a prison, did not see their bond as a divine hand taking away his self-determination. He was an alpha and a prince. He was used to getting his way, being free, and always having a choice, but he ceded himself to Charles with little question or hesitance. In many ways, Charles had already done the same. Maybe it didn’t have to be as complicated as he initially thought. It wouldn’t be simple by any means, but none of his choices were. 

“I can tell the prince loves you. He risked my father’s ire to choose you over me and will take more risks still to pursue you. He has decided you are worth that. The only question that remains is whether the prince is worth the same to you.”

Charles thought of Erik’s smile, his kiss, his embrace, the way he looked at him as if he were one of the wonders of the world, his care, his love. 

“He is worth it.”

Lord Helmut quirked a smile after a moment.

“Then, the answer should be obvious.” 

And it was. Could he make a life for himself without love? Yes. He could rebuild himself from the ground up, he had done it before. But he did not want to. Love was alluring enough to weather the storms it would require. He only had to accept that he could be happy if he willed it.

“Do you get it now,” Lord Helmut asked.

“I think I do.”


	19. Shiva

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While mourning his father, Erik comes to grip with the fact that some conflicts can be resolved while others cannot.

Erik had been to many funerals in his lifetime, too many if he were to be asked. From family to friends to soldiers and vassal lords, the event was rote in some ways by now. His father’s funeral felt markedly different.

Walking out of Charles’ bedroom that morning was like entering a new world. Within that room, he was swept up in a whirlwind of passion, longing and desire that made him ache with the emotion from head to toe. No fiber of his being was safe from the acute sensation of love Charles inspired in him. Once he left the room and Charles’ floor altogether, the reality of what he was to face crashed down on him and all the joy he had felt was zapped right out of him.

The first funeral he could remember attending was for his grandmother, Queen Olivia. He had only been five years old and couldn’t understand why he had to rip a part of his shirt or why he had to stay in one house for a whole week and not wear shoes or why everyone who visited him and his parents had to wash their hands before entering. He didn’t understand that he wouldn’t see his grandmother ever again until much later. He remembered crying for a long time once that sunk in.

His father’s funeral was much like his grandmother’s in that, due to their being ruling monarchs, there was more pomp and circumstance than in standard Judaic funerals. Everyone was out on the streets, just as they had been when Erik arrived back to Krakoa, but they were not jovial now. The crowd was a sea of black as they stood solemnly watching the processional walk past, the pine box in which his father’s body had been encased held aloft for the levaya.

Erik walked forward, resisting the urge to fuss with his kippah even as Pietro did just that. Anya shook the boy’s hand in rebuke as she held it in hers, her face as grave as everyone else’s. Wanda, who held Erik’s hand, was equally somber, but he couldn’t say if she understood what was happening or was just feeding off the energy around her.

It had been a long walk from the palace to the Great Synagogue for the service, and now from the church to the cemetery. The entire time Erik felt… he wasn’t sure what he felt. There was sadness, grief and lingering anger towards Shaw and the ones who had physically killed his father, but there was still resentment towards his father. He couldn’t make it disappear even as he stared at the closed casket.

He had not viewed his father’s body as the chevra kadisha prepared him. He avoided the chambers where he saw him last, where he could only assume his father died. He did not even attempt to enter the wing where his bedroom was, though eventually, he would have to brave it. Once he was crowned king, it would become his room whether he wanted it or not. He did not cry as the prayers, psalms and eulogy were said, didn’t flinch as he watched the pallbearers pick up the casket once more for the final march towards the burial site, didn’t so much as tear up even when Anya curled into his side to hide the dampness upon her face from the twins.

A part of him was angry with himself. At Edie, Ruth, and Magda’s funerals, he was dry-faced, but that was through sheer force of will. The emotion had clogged up his throat, sat heavily on his chest, burned behind his eyes. He had to hold on to anger to keep the tears at bay. With Jakob, it was not a struggle. He felt numb, comfortably so. It wasn’t the kind of anaesthetization that came from indifference but rather the kind that came from shock. That felt incongruous to this situation. He knew his father was dead, he had known for weeks, but it was a nebulous concept before now. It was a fact that existed in the back of his head without tangible proof of its existence and thus written off. He had buried himself in avenging Ruth, trying to repair his relationship with Anya and being with Charles so much so that while he did acknowledge his father’s death, he couldn’t feel it, didn’t want to let it in. He still could not do so now. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to. What was the point of falling apart at this very moment? He couldn’t and there was so much work to do…

No, but he had a week where he would not be able to do any of it. A week of dwelling on the inescapable fact of his father’s demise. Well, today was not the day he was letting the floodgates open. He pushed it down and clung to the lack of emotion. Time felt strange to him in this state, so he was a little bewildered when in what felt like a blink, he was standing in the cemetery watching the casket be lowered into the earth. Rabbi Elisha was saying something, praying most likely, but it went over his head. When the appropriate time came, he walked over to the mound of dirt waiting to cover his father’s casket. He picked up a trowel and held it in his hand for a moment, motionless. He caught Rabbi Elisha’s eye and the man nodded at him kindly and sympathetically. The prince proceeded to mechanically scoop up some dirt and drop it in the hole atop the casket. Anya came forward next and also used the spade to shovel a mound of soil and then the twins each took a handful and threw it in the hole. One by one, the mourners came forward to perform this mitzvah and slowly covered the casket completely. 

He swam down again and barely registered walking through the two lines of mourners, barely acknowledged the various attendees offering him the traditional comforting words. Utterances of ‘hamakom yinachem et chem bitoch shi ar aveilei tzion viyerushalayim’ followed him and his children as they washed their hands and left the cemetery to make their way to the shiva house they would be residing in for the next seven days. He barely remembered the trip there.

“Are you alright, Father?” Anya asked him at one point.

He didn’t grace her with an answer.

**~*~*~**

Erik sat upon a stool staring out the window of Edenhall, one of his family’s properties and the designated place of shiva for generations. It was a whitestone mansion rather than a castle built more recently than the royal palace was. It was located on a broad, verdant hill overlooking a stream that led directly to the bay. It was surrounded by vast greenery: hedges, trees, and multiple gardens and featured a briar maze to entertain guests during parties. The regal manor was decorated with statues, porticos, groves, fountains, and two small courtyards accented with walls of ivy, grapes, and climbing roses. In some areas, there were fields of blooms that stretched as far as the eye can see. There were even fruits growing nearby including melons, peaches, and plums. 

The lush nature of the property was the reason it was the chosen space for the Lehnsherr family to sit shiva. The idea was to make sure the occupants were reminded that life still existed beyond death. It forced the mourners to confront the vitality of life around them even as they grieved the loss of a loved one. Erik wasn’t sure if that was truly helpful or if it was mocking more than anything else. On the other hand, he didn’t think he would fare in his grief any better if he was consigned to a dark, dank, dilapidated hovel for a week.

Not that he was dealing with anything for the moment. He knew, objectively, that the point of shiva was for him to work through all his feelings, acclimate to the reality that his father was dead. Two days he had been here and he hadn’t done anything to face it. He watched people come and go, bring food and tidy up and make sure the family was comfortable. Erik acknowledged them but wasn’t much for company. 

He answered all of Pietro and Wanda’s questions about why they were at Edenhall, why the mirrors were covered, why they weren’t wearing shoes, why they had to sit on low stools or the floor. They took it in stride, but he didn’t think they understood the gravity of the situation. They were only three years old, there was only so much he could expect them to comprehend. He thought Wanda might have a deeper understanding than her brother did. She had witnessed death during Shaw’s siege. The permanence of it might’ve sunk in with her more than it had for Pietro. 

Anya understood it all. She tried to appear strong, but he knew she was hurting. She did not often come to him with her pain, echoes of her reservations about him lingering still. The last time they had all observed shiva was when Ruth died. Erik had not stayed at Edenhall with the children, knowing that his father would be here. Instead, he went to a smaller third property they owned. It was out of the way of the city, so he received few visitors. Erik had taken the time not to grieve so much as to stew in his anger and grief, let it all fester and bubble up until he was a volcano bound to explode. The first thing he did when he left the shiva house was to challenge Shinobi Shaw to a duel. He did his best to erase memories of that time by seeking Anya out, making himself available to her for whatever she needed from him. 

Lords, ladies, and common folk visited to offer condolences, prayers, food, and their company. His Brotherhood had dropped in, his council, Lord Helmut, among others. Sometimes they shared stories about his father, probably expecting Erik to reciprocate. He did not. He was not so out-of-touch that he didn’t notice their wary looks when he was noncommunicative. He wasn’t loquacious anyway, but he supposed they expected him to talk about his feelings now, open himself up. That was probably even a healthy thing to do. He did not want to and their concern quickly grew more annoying than it was touching. 

Funnily enough, the only person not bothering him where his father was concerned was Lord Frost. He was a cold man but not unfeeling. He had offered words of condolences only once. Erik saw the genuine grief in his eyes and remorse about his father’s death and his anger towards Shaw. He wished he could do more against the lord, but Erik brushed off any blame for that. Afterward, Frost was strictly business, discussing the upcoming coronation and plans for the council after his ascension. Burying himself in work and thoughts of the future did Erik good. He did not bring up Lord Frost’s offer to Charles, partly because if Charles chose to take Lord Frost up on it, Erik did not want anything he said to the older man to affect Charles’ future. He had already put his cards on the table. There was nothing else for him to do but wait.

Erik blinked back to himself, shaking his head to displace his wandering thoughts. Time had slipped away from him again as it had been doing lately. He looked up at the sun in the sky to find it in a different position than when he first sat by the window, apparently an hour or so ago. He shook his head again and stood up, running his fingers through his hair restlessly. Lord Frost had left some reports for him to go over about the damage Shaw had caused in the city. He wasn’t supposed to be working according to the customs of shiva, but he would rather immerse himself in reports than drift pointlessly in his mind. Rabbi Elisha would just have to excuse him for the infraction. He turned to leave the room only to come face to face with Pietro. His son was shuffling restlessly on his feet, his fingers tugging on strands of silver hair. He did not look unsettled in the way he usually did, his fidgeting and movement born of hyperactivity more than anything else. He looked nervous and unsure now.

“Pietro, what’s wrong?” Erik asked, approaching him.

The boy shuffled again, tugging on his hair hard enough to make the older man wince. He gently used the metal cuff on his son’s wrist to guide his hand away from the wild strands.

“I heard Mrs. Pryde talking and I heard her say…” Pietro trailed off, agitation alighting his face.

Erik did not bother chastising him for eavesdropping, waiting for him to continue.

“When is Saba coming back?”

Erik heard his teeth click as he clenched his jaw at the question. Pietro continued speaking, his tone frenetic and panicked.

“Because it’s been a long time and I thought when we came back home, we would see him, but he’s not here. I wanna see him.”

“You can’t see him, Pietro.”

“Why not?”

Erik sighed, rubbing his eye tiredly.

“I told you before, your grandfather is not coming back.”

“But why not?”

“He’s dead. That means he’s with Ruth and Magda and your grandmother.”

“I want him to come back,” Pietro answered petulantly. 

Erik bit back a humorless laugh.

“I’m sure you aren’t the only one.”

Pietro’s face pinched in dissatisfaction.

“I know why he’s gone.”

Erik rose an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

“It’s like when I dropped my paints on your bed. Saba’s upset because you and him were fighting. You just have to say sorry. He’ll come back. He’s not gone. He’s just hiding.”

He watched the young boy bite his lip and fidget with his shirt. He did not want to have this conversation with him again, he wanted to be done with it. He wished there was some way he could just cram comprehension into his overactive little brain, but there was no use in hoping for the impossible.

He sighed and sank down to his knees, waving Pietro forward. The boy shuffled closer to him reluctantly. Erik ran his fingers through his silver hair as he gathered the words he wanted to say. At least with Anya, she remembered Magda dying and Ruth and… and his father had been around to help him with the children then. He had been the one to have the hard conversation with Anya about death. Erik tried to remember what his father had said to him when he was young. The memory was annoyingly elusive.

Pietro remained staring at him inquisitively. He let out another sigh. He wished Charles was here. He was sure he would know what to say.

“Death isn’t like hiding. It’s not something that people get to come back from.”

“I heard Logan talking about coming back after he gets hurt real bad.”

He inwardly cursed the older man.

“That’s different.”

“Saba could be different too then.”

“It’s not the same. Logan has a gift that—”

“You just need to say sorry, that’s all.”

“Pietro, listen—”

The young boy petulantly slapped his hands over his ears and started screaming. Erik flinched at the shrill sound.

“Cut it out right now,” he demanded, but Pietro ignored him and shouted louder. 

He reached out and grabbed the boy’s hands to pull them away from his ears, even as he resisted. He grunted as his small limbs flailed and hit him in his stomach. Finally, he managed to wrestle his hands away from his head.

“You want to know why he can’t come back? He’s gone because someone shot a spike into his chest and he bled out. That means he’s dead and he’s never coming back. There isn’t anything you or I can say or do to change that. He is gone and we’re never going to see him again. That’s how it works, that’s how life is. So I can’t say sorry to him and he can’t apologize to me either. There’s nothing else we can say to one another because he’s gone. He’s gone forever,” Erik finished, breathing heavily. 

He instantly regretted the words as Pietro stared at him with shock.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I—” 

“Forever?” The little boy inquired in a shaky voice, tears filling his eyes.

Erik’s heart clenched as the word slammed into his chest. Forever. His father was gone forever, the last of his immediate family dead, excluding his children. He was the last one. There was no one else to share memories of his mother with, no one else who remembered pacing the corridors when she gave birth to Ruth, no one else who remembered praying day in and out as his mother laid on her deathbed. It was just him. 

“Yeah. Forever.”

He pulled Pietro into his arms as the boy broke down into tears. Finally, he felt tears welling up in his eyes too, but he stubbornly refused to let them fall.

**~*~*~**

After that conversation with Pietro, the reality of his father’s death became impossible to ignore. He couldn’t bury himself in work anymore, couldn’t ignore it with visits, couldn’t focus on rage to repress it. There was no one living for him to be angry at. Sebastian Shaw was dead, the soldiers that killed his father were dead, and his father was dead. Charles wasn’t here to focus on. There was only so much he could think of in terms of that situation. It really just came down to Charles’ choice of whether he wanted to marry Erik or not. He could do nothing else but wait. Though his children were here, there was no joviality, no smiles, no mischief to correct, no inclination to play games or something else to keep them entertained. They were as withdrawn and gloomy as he had grown to be. Even Pietro was quiet. With that, he couldn’t bury his head beneath distractions to circumvent the emotions attached to his father’s passing. It felt like despair grabbed him by the throat and wouldn’t release him from its icy grip, a torrid of feeling constantly pressing against his temple in a headache-inducing tempest.

Rabbi Elisha noticed the change and tried to counsel him through this stage of grief, but Erik just foisted him off onto the children, claiming they needed his guidance more than Erik did. He was perfectly aware of what was going on, what he was feeling and why. He wasn’t going to get over this in a week. Rabbi Elisha knew as much and didn’t push. Shiva was just the beginning of the formal mourning process anyway. He had a long way to go. Still, it was hard not to dwell on everything he had lost.

Any chance of reconciliation was gone. He wouldn’t be able to ask him about his bond with Mama. He wouldn’t be able to question him about his choices where Ruth was concerned. He wouldn’t get to introduce him to Charles. He was no longer around to get advice on making decisions for the realm. He was no longer here for Erik to attempt to forgive him. That was probably the hardest part: he still did not forgive his father but still loved him. They got to say goodbye, but there was so much more he wanted to say and do. The thing he kept thinking on was his last words to him,

_“And I, you.”_

His father had said he loved him. Why didn’t he say it back? Why couldn’t he have spoken the words? Why didn’t he just give him absolution, knowing he would die, even if it wasn’t true? But would it have mattered if he had said the words, ‘I forgive you’ if he didn’t mean it? Did he not say he loved him because it wasn’t true? No, he did love his father. It was merely that sometimes he hated him too and he couldn’t reconcile that with the fact that he was dead. He was grieving him and yet still mad at him simultaneously. Was he going to be angry at him for the rest of his life? He didn’t want to be. He had spent most of his life holding on to anger for one thing or another. He didn’t know how to let it go yet.

He had taken to consigning himself to his bedroom as often as he could. Sometimes, visitors would come and all but force him to join them in the common room or study. Rabbi Elisha coaxed him out to join him and the minyan for service. He recited the mourner’s kaddish but didn’t speak to anyone otherwise about memories or how he was coping. He would retreat to his room as soon as possible, after Theresa had plied him with food anyway because she wouldn’t allow him to miss meals. 

His children joined him sometimes, spreading out in his bed or crawling over for a hug. At times they were silent, a herculean feat to have accomplished for them he was sure, other times they took the cues of their visitors and shared memories of their grandfather with him. He was more verbose with them, the importance of their grieving process not lost on him. He wanted them to be okay. He _needed_ them to be okay.

He sat by the windowsill in his common area, staring up at the moon. A full moon. It served as a reminder of the time that had past him by. Was it truly only a month ago that Shaw sieged the city? A month since he left his father behind? A month since he first met Charles? He felt like he had aged years in the past month. So much had happened to throw his life into upheaval, some good and some bad. A lot of it remained unresolved even now.

“The moon is full,” he heard a voice say, breaking him from his musings. 

He turned to see Anya approaching him, her red hair reflecting the light of the ever-burning red candle that sat upon the mantle.

“I thought you were asleep,” he commented as the eight-year-old moved to sit on the windowsill across from him. 

“I wanted to see you.”

Her blue eyes had a touch of red from her tears, but other than that, she seemed alright. Erik had never allowed his relationship with his father to affect his children’s relationship with him. Anya, in particular, was close to him. He held out his uninjured arm to her and she approached him, allowing him to lift her up and settle her in front of him. He ran his fingers through her hair soothingly as they looked up at the night sky together. They were quiet for a long while, both lost in their thoughts.

“Saba used to say that on full moons like this, the spirits of our loved ones could see us clearest. The light from the moon gives them enough light to see. Do you think that is true?”

Erik glanced at his daughter, remembering offhand that she had asked him this same question a month ago as they sat by a window in Logan’s inn. That felt like several lifetimes ago. He gave her the same answer now.

“I think our loved ones are always looking out for us, even on the other side.”

“Is Saba one of them now?” 

Erik stared at her for a moment before nodding.

“Yes. Yes, I think he is.”

“So, he can hear us?”

“I’d like to think so.”

Anya’s lips twisted a little before she spoke.

“Saba, if you can hear us, I want to thank you for everything you did for me. For helping me ride horses and teaching me how to play cricket. I know you loved me a lot and I love you too. I’m sad that you’re gone, but I’m happy that you get to see Savta again.”

He watched the young girl sigh to herself and wipe at her eye, despite the lack of tears.

“Your turn.”

He shook his head in reply.

“You have to.”

“Anya—”

“Daddy,” she said, stopping him up at the use of the word. She hadn’t called him daddy in years.

“You have to. You can’t forget him. Rabbi Elisha says it won’t get better if we don’t talk about it.”

Erik stared down at her silently, his gaze heavy and sorrowful.

“Please, Daddy, try.”

Erik closed his eyes, sending up a silent prayer for strength before taking a deep breath, looking up at the stars and speaking. 

“Father, I want to tell you that I love you. I know it hasn’t always seemed that way and, I’ll be honest, I’m still angry at you for Ruth. But if this is the only time I get to say it, I… I forgive you. I don’t understand why you did it, but I can’t live in the past anymore, so I’m willing to let this go for the sake of our family and Genosha. I hope you find rest and peace.”

He let out a shaky breath and looked down at Anya when she grabbed his hand.

“Do you feel better?”

Negligibly. He didn’t say as much. He pressed a kiss to Anya’s head and held her closer. They were quiet long enough that he was all too aware of Anya tensing a little in his arms before relaxing.

“Charles.”

“Hmm?”

“Charles is here,” she elaborated, pointing out the window. 

Erik looked out and took in the lone cloaked figure making his way up the stone path towards the door. He could make out the younger man’s brunette hair, pale skin and red lips gleaming in the full moonlight. It was late. All other visitors had left and the only ones still around were the servants who had accompanied the family.

In truth, Erik wasn’t expecting Charles to come. He would’ve thought he would take the entire week to sort through his thoughts. It had only been five days. Now that he was here, the tugging in his chest that he had pushed to the back of his mind in favor of his grief returned full force, prompting him to stand up, placing Anya back on her feet to follow him towards the door. Charles startled a little when he opened it, apparently having been staring at the bowl of water by the door.

They stared silently for a few seconds before Charles shuffled on his feet nervously.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

They were quiet again, neither sure what to say first before Anya broke the silence.

“You can come in. You just have to wash your hands in the bowl first and take off your shoes.”

Charles nodded and followed the instructions. Once he stepped inside, Anya threw herself at his legs, hugging him tightly. A small smile alighted his face and he hugged her back, running a hand through her auburn tresses. 

“How are you feeling, my dear?”

Anya shrugged, not letting him go.

“Sad.”

“Yeah, I was too when my grandfather died. It gets better with time. You never forget, but it becomes easier to manage.”

Anya nodded against his stomach and gave him one last squeeze before letting go.

“I was about to go to sleep. Goodnight Daddy, goodnight Charles.”

They murmured goodnights to the young girl and watched as she walked off. Erik’s gaze lingered on her before returning to Charles. He was looking him up and down, assessing. Erik probably looked a mess. He was unshaven, his hair a little wild from running his fingers through it, his skin colorless and his eyes red-rimmed with bags underneath.

“You look exhausted, love,” the omega commented. 

Erik’s heart surged a little at the endearment, but he simply nodded in reply.

“I feel like I’ve aged fifty years instead of five days,” he admitted. He ran a hand through his hair before shaking the lethargy off.

“It doesn’t matter. Is something wrong? Do you need anything from me?”

Charles shook his head in reply.

“You’re observing shiva. Moira and Hank explained everything about it. This week is about you and your children and your father, not me.”

 _Hank?_ He thought as Charles approached him. 

He ran a hand down Erik’s arm before clasping their fingers together. He lifted Erik’s hand to press a kiss to his palm, giving him full view of his mother’s ring still encasing his finger.

“I came to ask you what you need from me.”

He stared into Charles’ earnest blue eyes. He opened his mouth to tell him he didn’t need anything, that he was fine, but to his horror all that escaped was a choked sob. His eyes quickly welled up with tears. He shook his head, trying to push it all back down again. Through his blurry vision, he could just make out Charles’ compassionate expression before he moved forward and enveloped Erik in a hug.

“It’s alright. You’re safe with me. You can let it out,” the telepath whispered in his ear. 

Erik really had no option from there. He couldn’t close the floodgates again, no matter how he tried. He dropped his head to Charles’ shoulder, tears streaming down his face and half-aborted sobs leaving him. He wrapped his arm around Charles’ waist and the other man held him tighter in response, murmuring words of reassurance in his ear as he led him over to one of the low couches in the common room.

Erik wasn’t sure how long they stayed wrapped in each other’s embrace, Charles comforting him unflinchingly and Erik allowing himself to fall apart. He trusted this part of himself with Charles the way he didn’t with anyone else. After an indeterminate amount of time, Erik pulled away from the wet spot he had left on Charles’ cloak.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice rough and cracking. 

Charles shook his head in reply.

“You don’t have to apologize to me. Not for this.”

He took the edge of his cloak and wiped Erik’s face clean gently before running his fingers through his locks to place them in something approaching order and then pressing a kiss to his forehead. Erik let out a shaky breath at the quiet intimacy of the gesture and let his head fall to Charles’ chest, his ear pressed against his heart. 

“Where’s your bedroom? You need to rest.”

Erik wanted to protest, but a wave of somnolence overtook any desire to adopt an air of imperviousness.

He mumbled directions and then was slightly surprised by Charles pulling him to stand with a strength he didn’t know the man possessed. He dragged him to the room Erik was calling his own and made him lay down on his right side. Charles rustled around a bit before slipping into bed, wrapping an arm around Erik’s waist, careful of his injured arm. He rested his head against Charles’ chest and felt the other man drop his cheek against his hair. 

“Can you stay?” Erik managed to ask through sleep slurred speech.

“I can. Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you wake up. Just rest now, love.”

He inhaled the comforting aroma of Charles’ scent and let himself be lulled to sleep by the consistent thudding of his heartbeat.

**~*~*~**

Erik felt awful when he woke up. His eyes were mildly swollen, his mouth was full of cotton, his chest ached, his throat was rubbed raw and his shoulder hurt. He had had a pleasant dream that Charles came to see him. He had held him close, wiped his tears, kissed his face, and did not seem uncomfortable with Erik not appearing as the strong, unbreakable alpha he portrayed himself to be. It must’ve been a dream. Charles was at the royal palace, deciding whether he wanted to share his life with Erik, not here, no matter how much he wanted it.

He shifted, trying to find comfort, and received it almost immediately as fingers brushed through his hair and a familiar voice shushed him and bid him go back to sleep.

So, Charles really was here. It wasn’t a dream.

He looked up and met the other man’s electric blue eyes in the semi-darkness of the room. It was still night, the moon still high in the sky streaming lunar light across the mattress. 

“I’m here,” Charles confirmed.

He sighed and sat up but didn’t leave Charles’ side.

“You should go back to sleep. You’ve only had a few hours tonight. I can bet you haven’t had much more the past few days.”

“I’m alright.”

Charles gave him a skeptical look at the statement. Erik ignored it.

“You didn’t have to come,” he said in a withdrawn manner. 

Charles gave him another look, reaching out to grab his right hand.

“Of course I did. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

Erik let out a self-effacing chuckle.

“Well, you saw.”

Charles stared at him with an assessing gaze before speaking.

“What is it? What aren’t you saying? What’s bothering you beyond the obvious?”

Erik held his gaze before looking away with a deep exhale. Charles knew him too well. They had only known each other a little over a month and still, he knew him too well.

“It’s just that more and more I’m realizing that as much as I liked to criticize my father, I’m a lot like him. I’ve made so many mistakes with the kids. I all but abandoned them to service my own feelings the same way he did with Ruth and me. I had the benefit of having someone else around to knock some sense into my head, but if you hadn’t been there, who knows what I would’ve done. Maybe I would’ve gotten myself killed and Anya would be stuck feeling the same things I’m feeling now.”

“You don’t know that. You made the choice to fight Shaw properly, to make sure you survived for your children.”

“After talking to you. I only leveled with Anya because you convinced me to. I can act holier-than-thou, but I’ve made my mistakes and I am not a perfect father by any stretch of the imagination. Pietro came to me, needing me, and I messed that up just days ago.”

“No one is a perfect parent. We all make mistakes. Some are forgivable, some aren’t, but none of us are always right all the time.”

“I can’t forgive him, not really. I said the words for Anya’s sake, but I’m still angry. I’ve heard all the regular rationales. How forgiveness is for myself, not the other person, and how I can’t truly move on without letting this go, but I can’t. Even though he’s dead and I miss and love him, I’m still so angry at him. None of this would have happened if he had just listened to me about the Shaws. But…”

Charles squeezed his hand, encouraging him to keep speaking.

“But if all of this didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have met you. I would never wish for this. I wish Ruth were here to meet you and I wish my father could meet you too, but if they were here, you and David wouldn’t be. I wish there were a way I could have all of you. I wish I didn’t feel like I was trading one family for another.”

“Erik, that’s not true. You have to know that.”

“I know it’s irrational. I just can’t shake it. Does that make me a bad person?”

“You’re not a bad person. I’ve seen into your mind. If you could bring back your family, you’d do it in a heartbeat. I know that. You know that. This isn’t about choice. You didn’t choose for your sister or your father to die. The only person blaming you for any of that is you. Moving forward is not a crime.”

“I know, objectively, I know. It’s hard to keep remembering that.”

“You have me here to remind you when you forget.”

He glanced over at Charles, cautious and hopeful at once.

“Do I?”

Charles reached out and caressed his cheek.

“I’ve been thinking a lot the past few days about choice, and lack thereof. Choices I’ve made, choices other people have made for me and how they have led me here. I think part of me is still stuck sitting in front of that window, angry at Kurt and Cain for taking away my family, my daughter, my free will. I can’t help but rebel a bit against all of this, against you. Sometimes you feel like a dream that I made up in my head to escape, nothing more than a fantasy. Other times I’m terrified because this is the first time that I have had a real choice in five years. It’s been a long time since I’ve been me. Now that I am, I’m afraid of making the wrong decision. And this bond Lady Proudstar and your rabbi was telling me about scared me too because I thought it took my choice away from me again. I was kept for so long against my will, I didn’t want to belong to someone else again like chattel and nothing more. I thought of you compared to Cain and even other lovers I’ve entertained and there is no comparison. I thought I knew what every person in the world was like before I met you. With my telepathy, I thought I had the world pegged. I was more jaded than I let on. I didn’t have any faith in love. And you just...”

Erik reached up and rubbed his thumb into the back of Charles’ hand.

“It’s easier to blame societal barriers for keeping us apart rather than something inside of myself. It’s scary to think that even while I’m orienting myself in this world again, there’s you becoming so inextricably intertwined with the fabric of who I am, how I see myself and how the world sees me. But I finally realized that I can be someone else’s and still be my own. I make decisions for myself. I’ve _been_ making decisions. I chose to do everything I did with you because it was what I wanted to do. The only thing that can determine what happens between us next is us, not Lord Frost, not Lady Proudstar or Rabbi Elisha, not this bond. I love you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else in my life. This is more real than anything I’ve felt in a long time. I don’t want to just be comfortable. I want to be happy. I want a life with you and the children.”

Erik’s heart thudded hard in his chest.

“Does that mean…?” 

“I don’t have anything to give you, you know? All I have to offer you is me.”

“That’s enough. Charles, that— you are everything I want.”

Charles leaned in and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his lips, lingering in his space.

“Yes. Yes, I will marry you.”

A smile broke out on Erik’s face in response as a ball of warmth settled in his chest, like the sun breaking through storm clouds. He drew Charles in for another kiss before pulling him in for a hug, breathing in his comforting scent as relief flooded his veins.

“I have a few conditions.”

Erik pulled back and looked at him curiously.

“We can’t just jump into things. I want to settle into the city as your fiancé and get to know your people better. I’ve gone into the marketplace, talked to people there and some of the nobles in the castle, taken the temperature of the general public. It’s better if things aren’t a shock. It would hardly due to spring a surprise wedding on them so soon after a siege, the king’s passing and your coronation. Plus, that’ll give you time to settle into your kingship, rebuild the city and mourn your father. Moira explained how it works in your religion. Shneim asar chodesh, right?”

Erik snorted a little.

“Your pronunciation is still atrocious, but twelve months to mourn a parent, yes. Large, festive celebrations are to be avoided during that time. Though allowances will be made for me given my position, such as the coronation.”

“A year-long engagement? I think that would be a good idea. You’ll have established yourself as king. I’ll have established myself at court. It’ll give us time to figure out how to address the Markos and adhere to your customs. I don’t want my being here to upend your traditions, whether I know them well or not. We’ll have to talk to Lady Proudstar and Rabbi Elisha about completing the bond versus the actual marriage and the mourning period and when the appropriate time is for everything.”

Erik’s lip twisted a little, impatience stabbing him in his chest. He would rather marry Charles as soon as possible, but he pushed it away and nodded.

“Whatever you want.”

Charles smiled a little.

“It isn’t just about me.”

Erik shrugged noncommittally.

“Anything else?”

“I want to open my father’s school here. I don’t want to just be an ornament. I want to be your partner, as much as I can. I don’t want to be idle. The school has been a dream long deferred for my family. Getting to watch it actually come into being… I want to build it.”

“Of course. We can talk to Lady Grey about it. She oversees education in the country.”

“Lady Elaine? I’ve become acquainted with her. I’d be happy to work with her and I think she’d be amenable to the idea. Lord Janos and Lord Helmut would be wonderful to have on hand as well. We’ve talked quite a bit, and they seem like they would be valuable partners to have in such an endeavor.”

Erik quirked a smile.

“Hank, Elaine, Janos, Helmut. You’ve been busy.”

A blush lit Charles’ face.

“I didn’t want to waste my time here. I want this to work. I want to make a home here. I know things won’t be perfect. People will judge me for one thing or another. Maybe Lord Frost will tell everyone the truth about me. Maybe Cain and Kurt will find me. Even if they don’t, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to give you children or what the future may hold for us. I have to tell you, I’m not going into this unafraid. I’m absolutely _terrified_. I want to do this with you anyway. I want to pledge you my honor, my love, my fidelity, until death does us part.”

Erik looked over Charles’ face, looking to detect any reservation or doubt but found none. He pulled Charles into another kiss, this one more passionate than before. He broke it after a moment, gathering himself enough to not break the sexual restrictions of shiva.

“I hope you know I don’t plan to let you go now that I have you.”

“It’s a good thing then that I don’t want you to let me go.”


	20. New Beginnings (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles meets with Lord Frost to tell him his decision.

Charles had always been a creature prone to worrying, but he found that once he made a choice, his anxiety level rapidly declined. That proved true now. There was still work to be done, but he felt like he was on a level plain now. He and Erik had reached a consensus and he had a rough idea of the future. 

He had begun fantasizing again, sketching out what life would be like. Charles would wake and break his fast with Erik and their children. He would go into town and visit wherever they decided to build the school to make sure it progressed adequately. He could teach a few classes once it was established and they would allow kids from all over Genosha to enroll. Perhaps he could create a partner school for Non-Gifted children or programs to promote literacy across Genosha. If they were lucky, they would have a child or two, but if not, then they still had their four children to raise between them. He pictured trips to see all the things he had read in books but had not thought he would view in person, time spent together as a couple and a family in picnics, birthdays and holidays, sharing more stories about their past until they knew each other completely.

He left Edenhall the day after accepting Erik’s proposal. It was better if Erik’s visitors didn’t know he spent the night, so he was gone before the servants woke and saw him. He walked back to the castle with a bounce in his step. His heart tugged insistently for Erik, but he was happy enough to ignore it. He returned to his bedroom with haste and pressed his back to the door once he entered. A smile lit his face as he held the ring to his chest, placing it over his beating heart.

“I take it you said yes,” Moira commented, startling him. 

Charles’ eyes popped open and he saw the woman holding David in her arms, a knowing smile on her face.

“I did.”

“Congratulations. I’m glad.”

Charles smiled at her sincerity as he greeted his sleepy son with a hair tousle. 

“You’re the first person I’ve told. Even Anya doesn’t know yet.”

Moira gave him a slightly apologetic look before asking her next question.

“Have you thought of what to say to Lord Frost?”

Charles’ smile started to wane a little and some doubt finally crashed through his haze of joy.

“No, not yet,” he admitted, dropping on to his bed.

“Can I make a suggestion?” Moira started, sitting beside him.

“Hmm?”

“Lord Frost is not a sentimental man. It’s better to come at him with cold, hard facts. Perhaps it would be prudent to compile some historical instances of unconventional marriages to prove that your marriage to the prince won’t cause the country to implode in on itself the way he believes.”

Charles sat up straighter. That wasn’t much different than formulating an essay or research paper. He could investigate and argue a position with the best of them. That was his comfort zone even. He would be able to meet Lord Frost on that level confidently.

“That’s a great idea, Moira. I didn’t spend years in university without picking up some skills.”

“Hank and I will help. His father is the records keeper for Genosha and he and I worked on many research projects together when we went to school. Between the three of us, we can brainstorm ideas about the best approach.”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to involve yourself more than you already have. It’s my problem, I don’t want to put it on you.”

“I’m offering and I’m sure Hank will agree. I like you, Charles. Hank does as well. We’re happy to help.”

Charles’ lip twisted in doubt. It would be easier with other hands and eyes, but he was reluctant to accept help with this, his pride still getting in the way.

“The prince has helped me through several binds over the years. Consider it repayment for that.”

Charles smiled, picking up on her intentions to circumnavigate his stubborn pride. He appreciated her efforts and gave her a nod in reply. She smiled back at him before handing David over and setting off to procure breakfast for them.

Charles looked down at his drowsy son who was making a valiant effort to curl himself up into Charles’ chest.

“Guess what? We’re staying.”

David gave him a largely disinterested look before projecting an image of Erik at him. Charles chuckled in reply.

“He’ll be back tomorrow morning and so will the children. Then we can start plans about making our home here.”

David accepted this as an answer and moved to lay his head back on Charles’ chest, but he moved down to press a kiss to his head before he could.

“Thank you for bringing me back. I didn’t say it before, but we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. My little hero.”

He lightly brushed his nose against David’s, drawing a laugh from the child before he burrowed into Charles contentedly. The older telepath sighed in mutual comfort. He decided to allow himself to bask in life’s new possibilities and joys and push the worries back until later.

**~*~*~**

Charles stood outside Lord Frost’s chambers, his mind abuzz with nervousness, running over what he wanted and needed to say. He had spent most of the day shut up in his study with Hank and Moira. He immersed himself in the history of House Lehnsherr, the ruling monarchs and their mates, as well as initiatives and laws put in place. It was essential to educate himself on the history of Erik’s family and the precedents set by his forebearers. Moira and Hank were endlessly helpful, putting things into context when Charles didn’t understand, and injecting a bit of levity and distraction for him when he got worried or anxious.

Armed with the knowledge he had crammed into his brain, he made his way towards Lord Frost’s study. He steeled himself before he knocked and stepped into the room when bidden entry. Lord Winston was behind his desk with his daughter by his side. The lord’s face was carefully blank as he studied him while the lady knight looked at him with a measure of interest.

“Lord Charles, I have been expecting you. Sit, if you please.”

He sat down at the desk across from the older man and the other telepath who Lord Frost did not order away. She must know of his offer then. He thought of her veiled accusations and disdain with his relationship with Erik. He thought he would only be contending with one person throughout this conversation, but that was fine. He could handle this. He clasped his hands together on his lap, fiddling with the ring on his finger so they would not see that he was shaking.

“Am I to assume you have come to a decision?”

“I have.”

“And?”

Charles took a deep breath before answering.

“I’m afraid I must decline your offer.”

There was a diminutive flash in Lord Frost’s eyes while Lady Emma’s lip quirked into a smirk.

“Oh, woe. However, will dear Christian cope?” Emma commented, her voice unemotional, but there was a delighted gleam in her eye that denoted her amusement with the situation. Charles didn’t bother to examine it.

Lord Frost cut her a withering glare before turning back to Charles.

“That is disappointing. I had thought we reached an accord.”

“I cannot say some of your words did not ring true to me. I like to believe myself to be an analytical person, rational. Yet I don’t feel I can conduct myself in what you view as the most logical manner in the face of something like this, especially given Prince Erik’s proposal of marriage, which I have accepted.”

Lord Winston did not look surprised by the admission so much as annoyed.

“It is foolish to believe that decades of tradition would yield to something as fickle as a matter of the heart.”

Something passed Emma’s eye that Charles did not understand, but she shot a discrete glare at her father.

“Of course not. I am not so illogical as to believe it would, but that says nothing of precedent.”

“What precedent?”

Charles sat up straighter, squaring his shoulders to present his first argument. History.

“I am aware that my status as a divorced, foreign man is what gives you pause the most. I would turn your attention to foreign consorts such as Princess Antoinette of Monaco. She helped Queen Angela reform the criminal justice system. Princess Zipporah of Wakanda helped King Edward lead armies to protect Genosha from invasion during the Northern Crusades. Prince Elton of Prussia spearheaded the initiative to expand housing for the working class of Genosha. All were beloved among both the people and the nobles. On the other hand, there is Prince Anders, who was divorced twice when he married Queen Celia. Lord Lars married Prince Albert after they divorced their respective mates. Princess Frederica had a child when she married Queen—” 

“I am aware of Genosha monarchal history, more than you I would wager,” Lord Winston interrupted.

“Yes, we have had divorced consorts in the past. None of whom divorced their alphas without consent and came to Genosha a fugitive.”

Charles conceded that point and quickly moved on to the second one he had prepared. Law.

“That is true. However, in my reading I found that Genosha does not generally recognize marriages that don’t conform to its own marriage laws.”

Lord Winston’s eyes narrowed at that.

“Yes, that is true.”

“Queen Olivia, Erik’s grandmother, passed a law in an attempt to protect omegas and betas from forced marriages.”

Lord Frost blinked at that.

“Yes, I am aware of it. It is a rather fledgling law, not yet fully implemented throughout Genosha or heavily enforced.”

“But a Genoshan law, nonetheless. It’s age or success rate notwithstanding, the proclamation states that both parties should have two individuals they personally choose to bear witness to the signing of the marriage contract. Furthermore, it states that any marriage contract signed under duress or threat is immediately considered null and void.”

Realization flooded both the lord and lady’s eyes as they realized where he was going.

“I was not allowed to choose witnesses and was certainly under threat from the Markos, as they held my sister’s life over my head, and under duress brought about by the drugs I was forced to take. Technically, under the laws of Genosha, my marriage to Cain is invalid and is not recognized in this country.”

He sat back, waiting apprehensively as his words sunk in. Lord Winston and Lady Emma’s eyes met. Charles was sure they were conversing telepathically before Lady Emma’s lip quirked in a small smile and she turned to Charles.

“I wasn’t sure about you in the beginning, but you’re not at all what I expected.”

Charles was not positive if that was a compliment or not but accepted it, nonetheless.

“You have put my dear father in quite the quandary.”

“Emma…” the lord warned, but she ignored it.

“What is he, a staunch traditionalist to do, in the face of precedent and laws? Yield? Perish the thought. But go against those principles he holds so dear? Blasphemous. If only I had come so prepared when it was my relationship he sought to ruin.”

Charles shifted uncomfortably at her words and unspoken history, ignoring the looks exchanged between father and daughter. Lord Winston let out a sigh that sounded tired. Charles almost pitied him, almost.

“You do know, by your own admission, that makes your son a bastard?”

“It makes him a Xavier, the same as it does me. At least it will once he is legitimized, should Prince Erik grant me my request.”

Lord Winston eyed him with some mixture of disdain and begrudging respect.

“Under the laws of Genosha, anyone seeking asylum from a forced marriage is granted such, once they go through the appropriate channels. That does not mean I accept this match between yourself and the prince. The others may have been lulled by your intelligence, but I am not so easily bought.”

The perfect opening for his third point. Guilt.

“I have no designs on buying you, my lord. However, I would speak to you as Charles Xavier, the son of Brian Xavier, a man you claim was your friend, whom you claim that you would’ve killed for. I know my father well enough to know that if that were the case for you, it was doubly so the case for him. He was a man prone to holding others in extremely high esteem, even when they didn’t deserve it. He gave endless chances and believed in the inherent goodness of others without fail, putting aside what the world believed one should be, to see any given person as the best version of themselves.”

Lord Frost’s face softened into a wistful expression.

“Your father was a rare man, it is true enough. His death was a tragedy.”

“Yes. One I had the misfortune of bearing quite alone. None of his friends came to call. None but the Markos. I’m sure Kurt would’ve kept everyone away. It would give him the time to weasel into my mother’s head and convince her to marry him. I know his manipulations all too intimately. I’m sure he convinced you and everyone else that all was well and he had everything firmly in hand at our estate, not knowing all the while that like a snake in the garden, he was biding his time to coil around my family and squeeze us for all we were worth. Regardless, I would implore that given you are knowledgeable about the nature of my forced and false marriage to Cain Marko, your assistance in securing my safety and my son’s would be appreciated. I am Lord Xavier’s only biological child and David is his only living grandson. The Xavier Estate and all its assets rightfully belongs to me, if not David. Some of which would revert to the Genoshan throne upon my marriage, of course. It is the dowry I can offer my husband. You would probably know more about all the business ventures the Markos stole from my family than I would, so know well what Genosha would gain from my union with Erik. Naturally, anything I may seek to part with rather than pass on to David could be discussed at a later time after I’ve assessed the damage the Markos have done. The point is, they are nothing more than cutthroats and thieves that stole my father’s fortune out from underneath us.”

Lord Winston stared at him for a long while, his eyes shrewd and assessing before his lip tilted up. Charles would not call it a smile, there was still an air of coldness to it, but it was not malicious.

“You look like Brian, but you’re not like him at all, are you?”

“If I am not, it is because he was taken from me, killed by Kurt Marko in his scheme to steal my father’s fortune.”

The smile on Lord Winston dropped.

“Is it truly so?”

Charles was surprised by the quick turn in the lord’s mood, the seriousness. He was so used to people brushing this fact off that he no longer bothered to try to convince them of it.

“I’ve heard passing thoughts in his head and he admitted it to me along with claiming responsibility for my mother’s death after I returned home from York, beckoned by his threat on my sister’s life.”

Lord Winston glanced over at Emma. He could feel her prod his shields for access. He let her in, allowing her to see the truth in his statement. She nodded once to her father. A stormy expression overtook the lord’s blank face.

“For whatever this quandary with you and the prince is, Brian was a good man and did not deserve such treachery. This changes things. This is an avenue I can pursue.”

Charles stared at him, taken aback but hopeful.

“Truly? But it’s been so many years, surely no law officer would pursue this now?”

“The law may not, but there are methods that go beyond the judicial.”

Charles rose an eyebrow at that.

“So…”

Lord Winston met his eyes.

“For the love and friendship I bore for your father, I will help you regain ownership of your family’s estate and finances. That does not mean I approve of you and the prince, or ever will.”

Charles felt a bit crestfallen but did not let it show.

“However… you are everything the prince said you were and more. I will be watching you, Lord Charles. You may leave.”

Charles stood up abruptly, taking the dismissal for what it was. It wasn’t an acceptance, but the lord had not shut him down entirely and it seemed he would not bring the Markos down upon Charles’ head, which was his intent in meeting Lord Winston in the first place. As he stepped out of the office, he found Moira loitering in the hall waiting for him. She took his hand and led him away from the room.

“And?”

Charles processed everything that had happened.

“I think… I think it went well.”

“Is he going to try to run you out of the city?”

“No. He says he will help me regain control of my family’s estate and fortune and accepted my conclusions about my marriage to Cain.”

Moira’s eyes widened.

“It worked?”

“It did,” Charles confirmed.

Their eyes met before they smiled widely at one another. Moira moved in to hug him and he accepted the embrace, a mixture of joy and relief flooding him. That had felt like the most arduous battle he had had to wage, and he had succeeded. It wasn’t over, but it was a victory, nonetheless.

**~*~*~**

Charles did not join the other nobles in the courtyard or throne room to greet the royal family’s return the next day. He wanted his introduction to court to be as organic as possible. He wasn’t sure how David would react or how he himself would conduct himself in front of an audience with Erik, so best not to chance it. Erik didn’t come to see him immediately either, but they were called to one another by the invisible string binding their hearts. By midday, they managed to drift towards one another until they found each other in the small garden behind the palace where Erik first greeted Charles upon his arrival to Krakoa.

They shot each other smiles when they spotted the other and made their way to one another. Charles was only a little surprised by the kiss Erik immediately placed on his lips, taking no heed to the presence of his guards. Charles pulled away with a chuckle when the other man made to deepen the kiss.

“I saw you just yesterday. It’s not been that long.”

“It has for me. I had almost convinced myself you had changed your mind and would be gone when I returned.”

“Here I am— no need to worry. And I can assure you, my previous indecision is miles away. I conferred with Lord Frost, told him my decision, and spoke to him at length about my position.”

Erik’s eyebrow shot up.

“You got into another debate with him?”

“Not a debate, I simply laid out my points in opposition to his conclusions. He had to concede that the statements I made were valid. He still disagrees with our union, but he is currently working on something that will only make our marriage even less disputable and may, if all goes the way I hope, leave me with something tangible to bring to this marriage.”

“Charles, I don’t need anything from you. I only—” 

“You only need me, I heard you before. But I don’t want to feel like you’re giving me everything and I’m giving you nothing.”

“You are giving me your sound mind, your kind heart, your unique experiences, your vast knowledge. All of that is not without value,” Erik answered, pulling Charles flush against him.

“Not a monetary value. That will always bother me even if it doesn’t bother you. Others will think I’m giving you the runaround, that I’m only after you for your money, land and titles. Not everyone, but I can read their minds. People would do a great number of things for a castle, not many of them morally correct. People like that are inclined to impose the same moral ambiguity onto others and believe me to be of their ilk. It may just be for appearances’ sake, but I’d rather come to this marriage with something other than a spotty reputation and a child who will be considered a bastard if Lord Frost’s plans come through.”

Erik gave him a confused look, but Charles waved it off, resolving to explain that later.

“You won’t let this go, will you?”

“No.”

Erik accepted the answer with a nod but sighed in response.

“I know, I know. As you said, I’m a stubborn, prideful man.”

Erik chuckled as he took note of the slight pout on Charles’ lips.

“Upset you, did it?”

“No,” he answered, his pout becoming even more pronounced in direct contradiction to the statement.

Erik laughed again. Charles could not keep pouting in the face of his expression. Dark circles lingered under his eyes from his time in mourning, along with the faintest bit of red in his eyes. He still looked tired beyond belief despite being put together for public appearance. However, the smile, sharp as it was, made him glow in a way that nearly threw the shroud of grief off him completely. It lifted Charles’ spirits to see it. He couldn’t resist standing on his toes to press a quick kiss to Erik’s lips.

“I’ll admit that I am headstrong and no more than that.”

“Headstrong? What a quaint euphemism.”

“Oh, shut it,” Charles mumbled, pulling Erik down into a kiss to ward off anymore teasing at his expense. 

He would’ve been happy to lose himself in the embrace, but a gasp pierced through the silence and cause him to break the kiss. He looked behind Erik to see Anya standing there with the twins and David, a broad smile on her face.

“I knew it!” she exclaimed happily as David looked on indifferently, Wanda gaped at them and Pietro looked between them with mild disgust. Charles caught thoughts running through his head about cooties and the horrors of kissing and couldn’t hold back the snort at his childish ruminations.

“When did this happen? You should have told me. Are you mated yet? Does this mean you’re staying, Charles? Please, say yes. Please, please, please,” Anya begged.

Charles and Erik shared a look between them and then smiled.

“I’m staying. I’ll be staying for a long time, in fact.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got too long and I had to break it up into two parts. Part two will be posted either later today or tomorrow along with the epilogue.


	21. New Beginnings (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year after Charles accepted Erik’s proposal, they embark on the next chapter of their lives.

When Charles had been stuck staring out a window in Westchester, he had hardly felt time as it passed. Days blurred and bled into one, an endless march of staring at the landscape outside made surreal by the drugs. He marked time with injuries, realizing a month had passed only when he was dragged to the surface by Cain assailing him during his heats, forcing him abed for the days that it lasted before discarding him back to his corner. During that time, a year had been hard to gauge and always a surprise when he realized how much time had truly passed. Still, the year that passed in Genosha seemed to be just as quick as that, but certainly not from idleness.

Introducing Charles to Genosha as King Erik’s mate and betrothed went as well as he supposed he could’ve expected. He was given a fair shake among the commonfolk of Krakoa. His project to build a school for Gifted children earned their approval, as did the time he spent at orphanages and charities throughout the city and his ideas about making education as affordable and accessible as possible. There were some jokes about his chastity that pervaded the pubs and bars, most likely from rumors started by the nobles who were less than pleased with his presence, but nothing that overwhelmed the public chatter about him.

The nobles fell into four categories: those who considered him their enemy openly, those who professed benevolence but secretly sought to undermine his relationship with Erik, those who were distant or ambivalent about him and those who sought to befriend him, both for selfish and selfless reasons. Charles took it all in stride. It wasn’t anything less than what he was expecting. If anything, he was more surprised by how many people he genuinely grew an acquaintanceship with, if not an outright friendship.

Moira remained close as his lady-in-waiting and friend. Hank continued to seek him out over the year, especially for advice when he was being courted before he married Lady Cecilia Reyes. He also grew close to Lady Elaine, Lord Helmut, and Lord Janos as they laid the groundwork for Charles’ school, the Brian Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters. It was set to have its grand opening a few weeks after the royal wedding.

That event was fast approaching. It was only a week away now. Charles thought he would feel more nervous about the prospect, but he was mysteriously serene. It wasn’t as if his relationship with Erik was not secure. Erik claimed him a month after his father’s funeral, at the end of sheloshim, as was deemed appropriate through their consultation with Rabbi Elisha and Lady Proudstar. He and Erik had already hit several milestones in their relationship. It had been a year since they met already, and they celebrated their anniversary together. They had shared both of their birthdays together as well as the children’s. They went through the period of Erik adjusting to his kingship together. They went through Charles’ first heat in months together, an incredibly emotional time for him as he was sure the divorce had rendered him infertile, but fortune had smiled on him.

Their mating had been like nothing Charles ever experienced during any other heat. It was equal parts frenzied and sweet. Between the moments of overwhelming need and desire, Erik was gentle as he coaxed him to eat and drink, wiped his body down with a cold cloth to regulate his temperature, brushed his fingers through his hair and hummed a light tune to help him sleep. He made sure Charles was fulfilled in every way he needed. At the end of it, he felt strung out and sore but more satisfied than he had ever been and even more confident that there was no one else in the world he could belong with or to besides Erik.

The week of the wedding was probably the most hectic time Charles had experienced in Genosha so far, even more so than when Erik was coronated or Anya’s ninth birthday soiree (which Charles had put together, his first large scale social endeavor in the country). The wedding was to be held in the customs of Judaism, so there was much that went over his head. He had some idea of what was to occur, having attended Gabrielle and Suzanne’s wedding and Hank and Cecilia’s, but the fact that it was a royal wedding added an extra layer of grandiosity that he wasn’t certain about.

Erik had told him not to worry about it, that all he had to do was show up, but that was impossible for him to do. He jumped in where he could, adjusting menus and tablecloth colors and seating arrangements and decorations as time went along and he learned the general landscape of court more and more. Anya was by his side the whole time, learning how to take the reins of such an event. Charles hardly felt equipped to teach her, but Erik assured him he was handling things well. 

Charles stood in his bedroom on a stool as the seamstress made last adjustments to his wedding suit. He was dressed resplendently in an off-white silk high collared frock coat. It was embroidered with white patterns all down it, making it appear whiter than off-white, and cinched at the waist. The seamstress called it a sherwani, all the rage amongst Indian royalty apparently. On the day of the wedding, he would also be wearing a diamond and pearl tiara and shoulder necklace set, not worn since Erik’s great, great grandmother’s wedding, and a regal veil featuring a train. He was sure he wasn’t going to recognize himself after his hair and make-up was done, but that was not today.

“You’re going to look gorgeous. Like something from a fairytale,” Pepper reassured him from her perch, sipping on her wine glass.

“I don’t know. Don’t you think you might be overdoing it? Seems a bit much to me,” Tony quipped. 

Charles rolled his eyes and looked back at his friends who had come over for the wedding. Tony had dropped in days early and proclaimed that as Charles’ distant (very, very distant) cousin, he ought to present Erik with his dowry. He promptly offered up money, jewelry, fabrics, foods, spices and the metallic alloy he had created, much sought after for its properties. Charles had been surprised and would’ve gotten his back up about Tony paying his way if Erik had not been so enamored with the new metal. Charles had saved the thrashing for private but then succumbed to happiness over having his friends with him. They would be a part of his processional along with Sir Steven, Lord Rhodes and Lady Natasha when they arrived, and Moira. The rest of the York gang would be in the crowd. Logan would walk him down the aisle, the closest thing he still had to a parent.

Tony took great delight and telling him all about the fair-weather friends and ex-lovers who were practically rabid with the desire to attend the wedding or learn the least bit of information about how Charles had ended up the mate of a king, but Tony turned them all away with pleased mischief. Charles was secretly happy to hear it. Let them wonder. Tony and Pepper never mentioned Kurt or Cain. Charles was glad of it.

Lord Frost was still working on removing them from the Xavier estate and holdings. Kurt had wound himself up in them so much that to unwind the webs of his deceit and wrongdoings took time. Otherwise, Charles would’ve been even angrier with Tony for paying his dowry when Charles was only waiting for his estate to revert to his jurisdiction again.

“It’s a royal wedding, Tony. I don’t think there is such a thing as overdoing it,” Charles retorted dryly as the seamstress settled the weight of the floral veil on his head. The fabric was lace and tulle with some embroidered patterns along the edges. It wasn’t necessarily heavy, despite its 12-foot length, but it was cumbersome and had to be pinned into his hair carefully. He had no idea how Erik would manage the bedecken custom he had learned about in which he had to put the veil on Charles himself.

“Look at you,” Tony cooed once the seamstress finished securing the veil. Charles looked over as he appeared next to him in the mirror.

“This seamstress was worth the money if she could make you look the part of unsullied prince,” Tony commented wryly, but Charles could see the sincerity in his eyes, feel the happiness and pride in the color of his thoughts. He smiled widely in return.

“Well, I’ve got a reputation to uphold, you know? I can’t show up hungover to my own wedding like some I could mention.”

“I’m still upset about that, by the way,” Pepper piped up, coming to stand by Charles’ other side as Tony gave him a look of betrayal.

 _“You little minx, you didn’t have to bring that up,”_ Tony hissed in his head.

 _“I’ve no clue what you mean,”_ Charles replied with false innocence.

“Are we ever going to table that? I would’ve thought I made up for that by now, Pep,” Tony said aloud. 

The exact wrong thing to say to his wife as she rounded on him with narrowed eyes. Charles smiled serenely to himself as they got started on their bickering, the attention taken off him in an instant. The seamstress looked at the betas dubiously, but Charles simply waved at her to remove the outfit so he could retire into something more comfortable. Just as the veil was fully unpinned from his hair, a knock sounded on the door. He reached out to see who it was and smiled when he recognized Moira’s psionic presence. He telepathically permitted her entrance and refocused on the seamstress removing the clothes.

“You know you don’t have to knock, dear. It’s not you that I’m trying to keep from seeing me in my outfit before the wedding,” he told her, ignoring Tony and Pepper’s continued argument with practiced ease. 

When Moira didn’t answer, he turned to look at her. Her face was troubled and she was wringing her hands nervously.

“What is it? Is something wrong? Is it the children?”

“No, no. The twins and David, along with young Morgan, are still with the governess in the playroom. Anya is in the garden, overseeing arrangements with the florist.”

Charles snorted a little at the last comment about his eldest stepdaughter before giving Moira a questioning look.

“King Erik and Lord Frost want you to meet them in the council chambers. They are there with the council, holding audience… with the Markos.”

Charles felt himself freeze and the Starks’ arguing voice tapered off into silence.

“What are they doing here? They can’t be here to take you back. Erik’s claimed you, you are mated. Cain can’t take you, surely?” Pepper opined, breaking the silence with her worried wonderings.

“The divorce was total and complete. That brute has no claim over Charles. Besides, the king would never allow it,” Tony reassured her. 

Charles’ mind shot off a mile a minute, wondering what Lord Frost had done or could do, whether the Markos came here willingly trying to take Charles away or whether they had been brought here by Lord Winston. He wouldn’t know until he went to the council chambers and saw for himself, saw them again for himself. He reached out to Erik to send him a simple message.

_“I’ll be there as soon as I’ve changed, love.”_

Erik sent him the impression of his understanding, but Charles didn’t delve deeper to glean his emotional state, too afraid of what he would find. It seemed like no time at all before the seamstress had him back in his standard attire and he was making his way towards the council chambers, refusing Tony, Moira and Pepper’s company. He was not the same person he was when he last saw Kurt and Cain. He was a man unto himself now who could function and think for himself. He was a father to four lovely children. He was the mate of a king. He was the future prince consort of a nation. He had a place that he called home now and a place he used to call home that still belonged to him. He would face his past and he would not falter in the face of it, he told himself.

His resolve was shaken when he finally stepped into the room and took in his surroundings. Genosha’s Council of Twelve sat all on one side of the table to face the two guests in the chambers. Erik sat at the head of the table with the seat reserved for Charles next to him empty, his finger tapping against the table in agitation. Charles could make out the repressed anger in his face as he stared the two alphas down with cold malice. 

Charles turned to look at the two Westchesterians. Cain and Kurt stood looking down their noses at everyone. Kurt had a scar Charles didn’t remember striping through his cloudy right eye and his hair was now all gray. Cain didn’t look any different. He was just as much of an overbearing presence as ever. They both looked at Charles with fury, disgust and vengeance. For a second, he wanted to flee. He grabbed on to every ounce of repressed anger and hurt at everything they had done to him, everything they had taken from him and made himself stand taller. He put his mother’s lessons to good use and gave them an imperious look, putting on a façade as if he were unaffected by their presence or the deafening wrathful thoughts they were hurling at him.

“Thank you for taking time away from the wedding preparations to join us, Lord Xavier. Please, sit down,” Lord Frost said in opening, his voice blank but purposeful. 

Charles moved to sit by Erik’s side. He glanced over at his alpha’s drawn face. His fist was clenched on top of the table and his jaw was set. Charles sent him a wave of reassurance and placed his hand on top of Erik’s. He turned his palm up to intertwine their fingers as Kurt let out a snort of derision.

“Wedding preparations, is it, boy? I’d like to know how you weaseled your way into such a position. Did you whore yourself out to all and sundry here as you did in York?”

Charles let the words roll off his back. They were no worse than he had heard before. Next to him, Erik gave a warning growl.

“You will have care for how you speak to my mate.”

“Your mate? He belongs to me,” Cain growled, rather like a child throwing a tantrum over a toy. 

Cain and Erik glared at one another, the two locked in a challenging gaze. Charles squeezed Erik’s hand to ground him, ensuring the challenge went no further. There was no point in him getting into a physical spar with Cain. Kurt looked between the two of them with a shrewd eye before speaking, his tone a measure more respectful.

“I don’t know what falsehoods my son-by-law has told you, Your Grace, but he endeavored to get a biological divorce without mine or my son’s consent and stole my grandson in the process. He came to this country most probably hoping to secure some benefactor he could spin his lies with. Someone he thought was powerful and rich enough that he could live off their wealth and use them to curtail any legal proceedings we could bring against him for his crimes. Make no mistake. Charles is not the naïve innocent he has made you believe he is. Surely you know of his… unique advantages in convincing others to take his word for fact. Nothing he says can be taken at face value, certainly not the status of his virtue.”

“I wouldn’t preach on truth were I you, Kurt. Not when the only truth you accept is that which can be bought,” Charles retorted.

“You will hold your tongue!” Cain barked at him.

“You give no orders here, boy,” Lord Frost commented in a calm, cold voice.

“Lord Winston, I am surprised you are electing to entertain this. I was told your daughter was a talented telepath, I would’ve thought she would see through Charles’ tricks if nothing else.”

Lord Frost leveled Kurt with a knowing gaze.

“On the contrary, I found that Lord Xavier told a most credible story, one involving treachery and murder.”

Kurt stared at Lord Frost for a long moment before shrugging.

“Lies. What tangible proof do you have?”

“I admit what I’ve found is circumstantial at best but leads to only one reasonable conclusion.”

Kurt scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“You have nothing then.”

“Nothing except me,” Charles announced.

Kurt flicked his eyes over at him.

“You’ve spent years shoving suppressants down my throat in an effort to keep me away from your mind, as if I would want to know what insidious, abhorrent musings you indulge in. More than that, you have tried everything you can to keep me from the truth of what you did to my father. In Westchester, you held all the power. You had everything you needed to protect your dark secret. We’re not in Westchester anymore. You hold no cards here. I will have the full, unadulterated truth one way or another,” Charles promised him, his voice darker and more forceful than he had ever made it when addressing Kurt.

Kurt stared at him, a measure of fear in his eyes before anger overtook it.

“What right do you have to speak to me as if—” 

“I have every right,” Charles retorted through gritted teeth.

“The marriage you forced me into by putting me under duress of your doctor’s drugs is not valid. So the Xavier estate is mine by right, the accounts are mine by right, all lands and holdings are mine by right, David is a Xavier and my son by every law of Genosha. It is you who never had any right. You had no right to steal my birthright from me, steal my freedom from me, my home, my parents, my sister, my daughter, my life. I took back what I could salvage from you. I fought for ownership of myself once more after you stole it away for some coffers and a deed. I have not been a victim of your avarice for a long time now and if you think I plan to submit myself to you again, or put my son in the same position, you are very wrong.”

Cain let out a mocking laugh.

“Did all that make you feel better? Enough of this, Charlie. You belong to me, David belongs to me. You think I’m going to let some Jew bastard still you from me? Crown or no, he is not your alpha.”

Charles switched his eyes to Cain before dismissing him entirely. There was nothing he wanted to say to him. He was a spiteful, rapacious creature with dull wit only living by the creeds of his base urges. Charles would not waste his breath on him. It was Kurt who set all this in motion, Kurt whose actions irrevocably thrust him into years of a painful existence.

“You owe me much and more, _stepfather_. The first thing you will give me is the truth. Consider it a wedding present,” Charles announced before delving into his stepfather’s mind with little preamble. He did not do his digging with care or kindness, he wanted Kurt to know he was there, to feel him rooting around and pulling up the long-buried threads to his treachery.

_Kurt was a young man, his black hair shiny and falling to his shoulders, his clean-shaven face turned down in a frown. He stood across from a shorter man with curly brunette hair falling over his forehead, electric blue eyes and the beginnings of a mustache below his nose and running along his jawline. Brian Xavier._

_Brian was looking at Kurt with a guileless expression on his face._

_“Whatever do you mean, Kurt? Surely I understand you wrong.”_

_“You heard me very well, Brian. This school of yours, your idea is just a beginning. Once we have all the Gifted children in Salem here, we can open a laboratory for testing. God willing, we will finally find a cure—”_

_“A cure? For what?”_

_“For this unholy malady. Think of it, it would sell quicker than any invention your whimsical mind could think up.”_

_Brian frowned deeply at the other man._

_“It will not happen, Kurt. Not under my watch. This school is not to gather Gifted children to become your test subjects, it is to help them to grow and learn, to lessen the hardships they face assimilating into the world at large.”_

_Kurt rolled his eyes in response._

_“Brian, your idealistic view of life must be put aside at one point or another. Are you to spend your entire existence living in your fantasy world where we all hold hands and sing songs together? It is unrealistic. These… Gifts, as history as seen fit to classify them, are dangerous things that need to be eradicated. There is no place for them amongst us normal people. It will only lead to ruin eventually,” Kurt spat back angrily._

_Instead of getting mad, Brian looked at him sympathetically._

_“This is about Marjorie, isn’t it?”_

_Kurt faltered then._

_“Oh, my dear friend. You know I am ever so sorry for your loss. Marjorie was a friend and a remarkable woman. I admired her endlessly, but you must understand that what happened was an accident.”_

_“An accident?” Kurt repeated, his teeth gritted around the word._

_Brian looked at him with mournful but understanding eyes._

_“Cain was manifesting. He didn’t know his own strength, he couldn’t have. If he had, do you think he would have hurt his own mother, let alone killed her? It was an unfortunate matter of bad timing.”_

_“If he had never turned into one of those freaks, it would have never happened at all. Think of how many other innocent people are killed when these mutations take hold. I don’t even recognize my son anymore. This… thing inside of him made him a murderer, made him kill his own mother. I would see this evil wiped off the face of the earth. You should want to fix your children as well.”_

_Brian shrugged in reply._

_“What is there to fix? Charles and Raven are singular wonders.”_

_“They are a problem the same way Cain is. The same way all of them are. Imagine what harm they could do. Raven could turn into anyone, do anything as that person, and how could they defend themselves when witnesses would identify the perpetrator as them. And Charles… how could you stand to be in the same house as him? How could you ever feel safe around him knowing there is never any privacy? How could you even know that anything you’re doing is not his will exerted over you?”_

_“You talk about my children as if they were villains in a novel, Kurt,” Brian scoffed._

_“They very well may become that. Cankers are cut out, Brian. Leave them to grow and the limb will become unviable.”_

_“For God’s sake, see reason. They are children, not malignant growths.”_

_“They are a cancer to society. There is no merit in teaching or coddling them or helping them control the thing they will use to destroy us. They must be cured and if they can’t be, then further measures can be taken. I am doing the humane thing and trying to find a way in which they can become like us.”_

_Brian shook his head with disappointment._

_“There is nothing wrong with my children any more than there is something wrong with Cain. The timing of his manifestation was unfortunate. It scared you, I’m sure. You don’t think I was scared too, thinking my son had lost his mind as he started talking about voices in his head? You don’t think it was hard for me to watch the pain he went through as the world crashed into his mind every second of every day? Why do you suppose I have not returned to the city? Can you imagine it? London at top volume every day, all day, in your head. I watched his tutor bring my son back to himself. Through the lessons of control of his Gift, he became better, stronger. That’s what all these children need. They need guidance and a chance, my friend, not a cure. They are not diseased. They are gifts on this earth themselves. I wish you would see that.”_

_Brian’s speech was given with sincerity and compassion, but it only served to annoy Kurt all the more._

_“You are a bleeding heart, Brian. Sentiment pours through you like a sieve, and you think it a strength, but it is your greatest flaw. You are blinded by those rose-colored goggles you choose to see the world through. I know now, you’ll never see the truth. I should’ve known when you professed to want peasants in the same classroom as their betters. I will not support you in your endeavors to court with the enemy.”_

_“Enemy? Cain is your child.”_

_“He will be corrected, have no doubt of that, but not by the likes of you. I will be sure your school does not see the light of day. Your naivety is more dangerous than you seem to realize. I will do everything in my power to ensure this does not come to fruition.”_

_“A shame. I will do everything in my power to make sure that it does. I can do nothing else, Kurt.”_

_“This school is as much my idea as yours. There is no basis upon which you can continue without my backing.”_

_“This school was always mine. You put your financial investment in it, yes, and you may withdraw it if that is your wish, but you have no right to tell me I cannot go forward with it and no legal grounds upon which to stop me,” Brian retorted, sounding something other than understanding for the first time. He seemed to regret his harshness almost immediately and reverted to his previously benevolent demeanor._

_“You must understand, my concern with this school is personal as well as altruistic. Charles and Raven need a place like this as much as any other Gifted child. I hope one day you will see that Cain will benefit from it as well.”_

_Kurt sneered in response._

_“You’re a fool, Brian Xavier. A gullible, passive, weak fool. You are a waste of the alpha spirit and a disgrace to your distinction. It’ll kill you one day, mark my words.”_

_Brian took the insults with grace._

_“This is where we part then, my friend.”_

_Kurt shot him a glare before he turned on his heels and walked out of the room._

_He spent the next week stewing in anger over Brian’s refusal to see reason and his determination to continue to build what Kurt saw as a fool’s errand, an attempt to normalize that which was unnatural. More and more, he came to realize Brian did not deserve what he had. He did not deserve the house he lived in, the lands he held, the money he inherited, the beautiful wife he got to bed, the good reputation and business partnerships he had cultivated. He would not use his resources to an end that proved beneficial to ordinary people, to the right people. Kurt could do so much with Brian’s wealth and power, more than that fool ever would._

_A dangerous idea took root the longer he dwelled on it. Brian was beloved and Kurt even considered him a friend most times, but Brian was a dangerous man and Kurt would never make him see reason, he knew it._

_Cankers are cut out, he had said._

_He had meant it._

_It was a simple thing, an easy thing. A few whispers here, a few coin purses there, and the next thing he knew Brian Xavier was dead, killed in a stagecoach accident. Kurt was free to call upon Sharon, ostensibly to aid in the funeral proceedings and mourning of his dear friend’s wife._

_It was a little thing to get his doctor to prescribe her a steady dose of opioids given how bereaved she was, not the loss of a wife for a beloved husband so much as an omega whose alpha was unexpectedly snatched away. In such a state, her agreement to marriage was assured, as was her decision to leave Kurt as executor of the Xavier fortune. She was not in her right mind enough to protest his plan to marry Charles to Cain or force suppressants on her son. When the time came, it was ever so easy to snap Sharon’s delicate neck and execute his plan to retain the Xavier wealth for himself through Charles’ union with Cain._

_Everything went exactly as he wanted it. In the end, he came out on top._

Charles pulled back from Kurt’s head abruptly, enough to make it hurt. A lone tear was running down his face as he was confronted with the full truth of it and not just the passing thoughts he had caught from Kurt over the years.

“He was only ever kind to you. He wanted to help you, to help _Cain_ even. He saw good in him of all people and hope for his future, much of an immoral imbecile as he is.”

Cain growled, but Charles ignored him.

“And you killed him, took him from this world and all the good he could’ve done for the sake of your prejudice and greed. That’s what all of this comes down to, doesn’t it? All these years, this whole… mess, it was built off nothing more than your empty materialism and overinflated ego.”

Kurt said nothing, staring at Charles cautiously. He could feel the thrums of fear in his mind at what Charles would do, what he could do. It ran through Charles’ mind, all the possibilities. He could dismantle his mind, take him apart piece by piece until he was an approximation of the husk he consigned Charles to be. He could trap him in a hell of his making, forced to relive one nightmare scenario one right after the other in perpetuity. He could make his brain perceive that his body was going through the most unimaginable pain, leave him a contorted, undignified mess. It would only be a fraction of the pain he had caused Charles. It would be so easy to do it.

Charles did not realize he had stood up until Erik stood up beside him. He fit his large palm against Charles’ trembling hand, capturing the fingers in his own. He pressed his forehead against the side of Charles’ head so his lips met his ear. Erik’s scent wafted over him, comfortingly familiar. His mind was calm, not the sea of anger when Charles first walked into the room. He thought only of Charles now, his mind racing wih concern, love, understanding and compassion. Charles latched on to Erik’s mind like a beacon calling him back from the darker shores of his emotions. 

_“I want to kill him. I could kill him right now_ ,” Charles thought towards Erik, needing his reassurance.

_“You can’t.”_

_“I can. It would be easy. Like stretching a rubber band until it snaps.”_

_“I don’t mean you lack the ability. If I thought it was something you could do without it haunting you for the rest of your life, I would let you do it. But that isn’t you, otzàr shelì. Kurt Marko does not deserve your guilt. He doesn’t deserve the sleepless nights you’ll get on the back of him. You’re overcome with the weight of it all right now. Take a moment, take a breath.”_

Charles wanted to point out that Erik didn’t lose sleep over Sebastian Shaw. He did not feel guilt over killing him or Shinobi Shaw, but it was two different situations and he and Erik were not the same men. Erik had been trained to kill his whole life as a soldier and an alpha. That was not Charles’ education, and even now, he felt himself being pulled back from the edge, not quite able to make that leap into something like that.

Charles took a deep breath and wiped the lone tear away as he squeezed Erik’s hand tightly to ground himself further.

“Was that enough, Lord Frost?” Charles asked into the silence.

He did not look at the head of the council or any other council members who Charles had projected Kurt’s mind to for them to see what he had seen.

“Yes, I do believe so. It is clear you are culpable in the death of Brian and Sharon Xavier, Lord Marko. You did so to force their only son into a marriage with yours. That is a punishable offense.”

“You have no jurisdiction to punish me and no proof upon which to do so. Charles could have fabricated everything. He has the power.”

“I would think it was obvious that you would not be here without our ability to pass judgment. Granted, even in Genosha, memories dredged up with telepathy alone is not enough to sentence you to death for your actions towards the Xaviers. However, it is certainly just cause to seize all Xavier properties and holdings from you as they will belong to the crown upon Lord Xavier’s marriage to the king. It is also within our rights to decide what your punishment shall be. Let your will be done, Your Grace.”

Erik looked between the two men with a scornful gaze.

“For your crimes against my mate and the prospective prince consort of Genosha, I sentence you to exile. You will live out your days on a small property in Cuba under the careful watch of the crown to ensure you serve out your sentence.”

“Cuba?”

Kurt stared at Erik before turning his eyes to Charles as if he expected him to say something to the contrary. A bitter smile crossed Kurt’s lip.

“So this is your revenge? To shuffle me off into penniless obscurity?”

“It is far more than you deserve,” Charles retorted.

Erik waved for the guards to take the two men away. Cain seemed like he would make an effort to fight, but it was a simple matter of Charles’ telepathy to deter him from the idea. He watched them be taken out with his back straight and his body rigid. He remained in this posture as the council members also eventually trickled out of the room. He did not relent until the last one had left and Charles felt their minds drifting further away. Only then did he sag against Erik, his energy zapped from the unexpected but crucial encounter. 

Erik wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close.

“Charles?”

“I knew. I’ve known for years, it’s just having undeniable confirmation of it…”

“I understand, you don’t have to explain. Come on. Let’s go back to our room. You can take some time, process.”

Erik did not ask if he was alright, instead he set to wordlessly comforting him. He couldn’t imagine facing this without Erik with him. He’s sure he could’ve, but he needed Erik’s grounding presence, care, and love to keep him from falling over the edge. He thanked whatever force had seen fit to make them part of the same soul so he didn’t have to explain that all he wanted in that moment was for Erik to hold him until the shaking stopped.

**~*~*~**

Once the adrenaline from his encounter with the Markos died down, Charles felt an even greater sense of serenity. He was happy to not have that hanging over his head before the wedding. His fortune was now firmly back under his jurisdiction so it could be added to the ketubah he and Erik had to sign. Some of his estate would be held from being transferred over to Erik or Genosha so David could inherit it when he came of age, but he had something to give Erik now and that did something for his sense of self-worth. 

He went down to the docks when the Markos were put on a ship setting sail for Cuba. He calmly watched Cain bluster and curse as he was forced aboard and challengingly met Kurt’s eyes when he glared at him coldly, trying to use his old tricks to intimidate him. Charles was unmoved. He stayed on the dock until he could see the ship no more and then took a deep breath and returned to the new life he had made for himself, resolving to let this part of his past drift away on the waves.

He threw himself back into wedding preparations, going forwards and backward over everything to be sure not a single stone or flower petal was out of place. This wedding would mark a new era in Genosha. It had to be absolutely perfect, he had to be perfect. 

Before he knew it, the wedding was a day away. Only then did he get nervous. What if something went wrong? What if the food wasn’t right? What if he messed up when he had to say the Hebrew formula when they exchanged rings? Erik always said his pronunciation was terrible. What if his stupidly long veil got in the way when he was walking up the steps of the synagogue or what if he or Erik tripped over it when they had to circle each other? Why the hell did he agree to a 12-foot long train anyway?

“Charles, Charles, Charles, will you stop worrying? We’re at your bachelor party, leave the wedding preparations alone for once,” Tony groused.

Charles looked up, realizing he was projecting his thoughts. He glanced around at the room filled with his wedding party and friends from his stay at Stark manor mingling with Moira, Helmut, Hank and Cecelia.

“You know me, I subsist on apprehension.”

Tony rolled his eyes and dropped down next to him, shoving a cup of wine in his hands. Charles took it with a dubious look, staring at the glass as if it were poisoned before taking a sip. He took a few more before noticing Tony was staring at him.

“What is it?”

Tony shook his head a little, his face bearing a more serious bent.

“I’m just glad for you, my friend. I remember how you were when I first met you: a skinny, scrappy kid with a chip on his shoulder and a thirst to prove himself to the world. You were obsessed with getting back at Kurt anyway you could, even when it hurt you. I could relate because my father was an ass, but it was worse for you and I worried about you. When you showed up at my door with David, I worried even more. Sending you off to Genosha, where I wouldn’t be able to help you immediately, was hard. Trust you of all people to somehow manage to snag the king of this island. Your luck is practically cosmic. Stop worrying. You’re going to get married tomorrow and spend the rest of your life living in a castle with a crown on your head and the love of a whole kingdom. Only you would find a way to be nervous about that. If I’m honest, I’m a little jealous.”

Charles cut an amused look at Tony.

“Are you? I’m pretty sure your castle is the only one that could rival the size of this palace.”

“Maybe, but I don’t get a crown.”

“Thank heavens for that.”

“Hey, I’d make a great king!”

“You once said that if you ever ruled a country, you would reinstate prima nocta,” Charles deadpanned.

“Well, that’s why you’re the one in this position and not me. Stop moping. You’re getting married. It’s alright to relax and smile about it. Drink, celebrate.”

He turned as Tony’s sentiments were echoed by the others in the room, friends old and new. The joviality in the place crept past his psionic walls and lifted his mood. He smiled in response and downed his wine to succeeding cheers.

It was a long while before he made it back to his bedroom, his head buzzing pleasantly with pleasant emotions and alcohol. He dropped onto his bed, empty as per wedding tradition. He wandered out telepathically, brushing minds in the palace as he looked for his target. He lingered on the children, sending them sweet dreams and warm caresses as he passed over their slumbering minds, until he finally found Erik. He was awake, but Charles could tell he was buzzed as well.

 _“Otzàr shelì_ , _”_ Erik asked, calling Charles by the pet name he made for him.

_“You never told me what that meant, you know.”_

_“It means my treasure.”_

Charles cracked a smile at that.

_“Yeah?”_

_“Is that a surprise?”_

_“Would you be upset if I said I still half-think all of this is a dream?”_

_“No. I can hardly believe it myself sometimes.”_

They were both quiet for a while, their minds connected and sending wordless warmth back and forth through their connection. Charles could feel the softness lulling him to sleep.

 _“Erik?”_ He said before sleep could drag him under completely.

_“Yes, ahuvì?”_

_“We’re getting married tomorrow.”_

_“Yes, we are.”_

Charles laughed breathlessly to himself and could feel Erik doing the same, both high on happiness and adoration.

_“I’ll see you soon, shall I?”_

_“You will. I love you.”_

_“I love you. Get some sleep, otzàr.”_

Charles closed his eyes, secure in the fact that tomorrow would mark the official new start in his life.

**~*~*~**

Charles looked out the window of his carriage. Somehow, he was surprised by the number of people standing on either side of the streets as the carriage ferried him towards the Great Synagogue. Citizens both from within Krakoa and outside of the city were lining the streets and hanging out of windows and on top of buildings cheering. They waved the flags of Genosha or various swathes of fabrics instead of it. They threw lace favors, garlands and flowers into the streets and shouted salutations, well wishes and prayers in Hebrew. Charles’ lips were stretched wide as he waved back at everyone. Anya and Pietro did the same across from him while David and Wanda stayed by his side, both of them thrumming with nervousness at their roles. 

He looked down at them with a smile.

“You okay?” He asked softly.

David sent him impressions of his anxiousness about embarrassing himself or Charles and Erik or dropping the rings while Wanda fiddled with her dress.

“I just don’t want to rip your veil or make you trip.”

Charles leaned down and pressed a kiss to both of their heads, cuddling them a little.

“Do you want to know a secret?” He started, capturing the attention of Anya and Pietro as well.

“I’m nervous too.”

“Really?” Pietro asked dubiously.

“I am, truly. But we’ve practiced this over and over. We all know what to do. Plus, Erik will be there and we’ll all be together. We’ll be okay, won’t we?”

The four children nodded before they all moved towards him to hug. He laughed as the four of them crowded him, jostling to get their arms around him. 

He glanced out the window as the spires and towers of the Great Synagogue threw shadows over the carriage. His heart thudded in his chest as he looked up at the grand structure where Erik waited for him. Logan opened the carriage door when they arrived at the entrance and the children piled out first before he took his godfather’s hand and accepted his assistance out of the carriage. As soon as he came into view, the roaring seemed to get even louder than before. The din of merriness, joy and cheer bashed into his psionic walls, but he let the crowd’s good-humor infect him, buoying his own delight.

Wanda and Pietro got behind him to hold his veil while Anya, holding the flower basket, and David, holding the pillow with the rings, preceded him. They all waved and smiled for the crowd while ascending the stairs, Logan even deigning to put on a genial mask.

“Thank you for doing this, godfather.”

Logan gave him a genuine smile at that.

“You don’t have to thank me for this, Chuck. I’m glad to see you happy. I only wish your father was here.”

“Me too. Maybe he is, somehow.”

Logan squeezed his hand as they stepped into the church and the music heralding his arrival started. The people on either side of the pews stood up. Most of the joviality outweighed any of the envious thoughts floating around. There were a thousand eyes on him and about 500 smiles, but he kept his eyes trained on Erik ahead of him, where he waited under the chuppah. His eyes were shining with tears and love.

Charles felt his eyes welling up as the weight of what they were about to embark on crashed down on him. His face hurt from smiling, but he smiled wider as the music cued him to walk down the aisle towards the man who shared his heart and soul.


	22. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

Charles watched out the window of the carriage he resided in at the scenery passing him by. It had been so long since he had been back in Westchester, let alone Salem. Years. Everything looked disconcerting, from the things that appeared different to that which remained the same. 

There were memories both bad and good that he thought of as he rode through the city. He felt excited as he saw the park he used to watch birds in and explore, but that dulled as he saw the doctor’s office where Kurt had him treated. His heart warmed as he saw a sweet shop where his father used to take him and Raven and then froze over as he passed the church where he and Cain were wed. His spirits soared as he recognized people milling about who he had had amicable dealings with. He greeted them when they noticed him, exchanged smiles and waves, but stopped after spotting several of Kurt’s sinister acquaintances sprinkled among the crowd. He had no fear of them. They couldn’t touch him even if they wanted to. He had the protection of the royal guard as prince consort. Charles wouldn’t let them get close, at any rate, considering the precious cargo he had on board.

He looked down at baby Nina, cradled and swaddled lovingly in the crook of his arm. She was fast asleep, the long trip from Stark manor to the Xavier estate having tuckered the infant out. Across from him, David and the twins were bunched together playing with the many toys Tony saw fit to lavish them with. Beside him, Anya had a book in one hand and Lorna clutched in the other. His eldest daughter stared, entranced at the pictures in the book her older sister read to her, the one-and-a-half year old pointing at a few things of interest. Charles’ gaze softened as Lorna giggled at Anya’s exaggerated voices for the fairytale she read.

He had been so worried he wouldn’t be able to give Erik children, that his fertility problems with Cain and subsequent divorce had rendered him barren. Then he got pregnant almost immediately after the wedding practically back to back. It was his pregnancies that delayed his trip home by years. He had been too overly cautious during his pregnancy with Lorna to chance the visit and then he didn’t want to leave her after she was born. When she was old enough to travel, he discovered he was pregnant with Nina, so the trip was put off once more. Three years later, things had settled and he and Erik decided it was a good time to pack the family up and make the voyage across the sea to Westchester. They had to visit the queen of Westchester first. It would be unseemly of Erik, as a king, not to pay attention to such courtesy.

After Erik and the queen had settled their matters, the family made their way to York to visit the Stark estate. Charles hadn’t gotten to see Tony and Pepper since the wedding and insisted on it. They spent longer than he had originally planned, but Tony’s newest inventions caught both Charles and Erik’s attention. After a week, Charles put his foot down and stopped letting Tony distract him from his purpose. 

It was a three-day ride to Salem from York. On the way, it seemed like word had got out that the King of Genosha was coming along with Charles and it drew something of a crowd. He got general impressions of curiosity and mirth from some of the people they passed and disbelief and scorn from others who couldn’t square up how lucky he had gotten, to marry a king. It was similar to what Kurt had said when he found out about Charles and Erik. Charles would rather not think of that confrontation. Kurt had died only a year into his stay in Cuba, struck down by a heat stroke. Cain still lived, as much of a self-centered brute as ever if his guards’ reports were believed.

Despite the more tumultuous circumstances that led to his return and the bad memories, Charles was glad to be back in Salem. This was his home for so many years. There was good here with his father and his sister. It meant something to him. He wanted Brian Xavier to be more to his children than just the namesake of a school in Genosha. He wanted them to understand his importance to Charles, as well as Raven’s. He wanted to share his life and history with his family.

The Xavier estate was just as Charles remembered it. The green hills yielded to the pale brick mansion rising up into the sky impressively. The hedges in front of the mansion were immaculately cured and the general vegetation appeared to be well-maintained. Charles expected no less. His decision to send Logan as his steward to oversee the estate was a foregone conclusion. He didn’t trust anyone else to represent his and David’s interests here. The carriage stopped a few feet from the front door. David and the twins immediately began clambering to get out so they could see the house. Charles didn’t bother reprimanding them. They had been endlessly patient with the long trip. Well, Wanda and David had been, Pietro kept begging to get out and run the rest of the way, wanting to stretch his body’s newfound capability.

Anya shot Charles an amused look at the children’s rambunctiousness, but he could tell the young alpha was just as eager to get out.

“Are you nervous?” Anya asked, probably picking up on his little ticks.

“Not nervous. Apprehensive. I haven’t been inside these walls in over three years. I just wonder what I’ll find, what’s changed.”

“It’s yours now, right? You can make it anything you want.”

“My wise daughter, always handy with much-needed reassurance.”

The two glanced over to see Erik appear by the carriage door. Charles smiled up at his husband. Erik leaned down to press his lips to Charles’ and he readily accepted the contact.

“You smell of horse,” he commented once Erik pulled away. 

The older man made to move, but Charles held him fast.

“I didn’t tell you to go anywhere, did I?”

“You most certainly did not. How lucky I am to have a husband so endlessly patient as to put up with my equine odor.”

“Lucky indeed.”

Charles pulled him down for another kiss but pulled away at the sound of disgust beside him.

“I’d rather not be trapped in this carriage with the two of you when you’re like this. The poor babies don’t need to be subjected to it either,” Anya commented with faux repulsion. 

Erik shot her an amused look before assisting Charles and Nina out of the carriage and then Anya and Lorna. The green-haired child immediately stuck her arms out to Erik and he took her with little hesitation. As much as Erik liked to claim to have grown immune to the beguiling charms of children, Lorna had him wrapped around her little finger.

Charles turned back to the mansion looming above him. Half of him felt like it was inviting him to come inside while the other half felt the need to flee. He clutched Nina a little closer in his arms for comfort. As if drawn by his distress, Erik’s hand was suddenly holding Charles’. He looked over as the older man raised the hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it.

“I’m right here, otzàr.”

Charles smiled in reply.

“I know. I’m ready.”

Erik squeezed his hand in comfort once more and Charles pressed back as Anya slotted herself to his other side. The two shared a smile before the family walked forward, ready to confront Charles’ shadowy past and his brighter future.

**AN: Thank you so much to everyone who followed me on this journey. Thank you to those who left kudos, bookmarked and commented. Special thanks to: girlwhowaited, flightinflame, Mnemo_ink, Khalehla, OneWithoutAName, TaylorAriel, tokillamockingbird (Theboys), awesomeXavier, Phtalocyanine, I_live_for_this, Kinza, Rebecca1982, IMHAPPY, DRACOalliknow, Pandora_de_Romanus, Bunny96, Aaaa_lc. You guys really gave me the motivation to complete this work, one of the few full-length fics I’ve ever actually finished. Some of the external inspirations I had can be found below.**

**Videos:**

**-** [ **Regency AU** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hixhyFUloY)

**-** [ ** Lost Along the Way  ** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BuDaYeAG8-k)

**-** [ **Lighthouse** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iUxcaWtIZ_A)

**-** [ **Outlaws in Love** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N1QuGh6m0Vw)

**As well as the movies _Becoming Jane_ , _Atonement_ , _Jane Eyre_ , and the television shows _Merlin_ and _Game of Thrones_**.


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